Chapter 1
Kathy had a perfect little life. She had plenty of money. She had no worries and no cares. Everything in her life was going along perfectly.
To look at all that she had materialistically, anyone would envy her lifestyle. The house, the cars, the trips, the clothes, and the jewelry, she had it all. Fortune without fame and flying beneath the radar is always better in life. It's best not to draw attention to yourself, especially when you've had a colorful past. Let's just say, should her husband decide to run for political office one day, he wouldn't have a prayer of being elected with her by his side. The tabloid press would dig up enough information and photos about her during her wild and crazy college days that their lives would be ruined. Fortunately, for her, her husband harbored no such political aspirations. The only aspirations he harbored were collecting as many of those small, green pieces of paper that had Benjamin Franklin's photo on them. His God was money and he worshiped it. He worked as an investment banker and recently, a few years ago, had become a partner in the firm. They lived in a perfect house right on the 9th hole of the golf course of an exclusive country club. A bad day for Kathy was when she forgot to wear her pearls to lunch with the girls. Big, expensive, and just perfect, she loved her exquisite pearls. They were her gift from her husband when he made partner. Married for twenty-three years last June, she had a 21-year-old daughter, named Mandy, and a 19-year-old son, named Randy. Kathy just turned 45-years-old and was at the pivotal point in her life where she was considering having some cosmetic surgery to freshen her look and give her a more youthful appearance. Accustomed to her beauty preceding herself to help open doors and to make her the center of attention, with her imagined sudden lack of interest from the opposite sex, especially from those men younger than her, she was just beginning to feel her age. In her uncharacteristic lowered self-esteem, even though she thought differently about herself, whenever men young and old saw her, she was thought of differently by others. Whenever she walked in a room, she was still a head turner and a conversation interrupter. Only, when she looked in the mirror now, she could imagine what she'd look like in ten years or in twenty years. She was beginning to look how she remembered her mother looked when her mother was her age now. It was a frightful horror because at the same time she remembered what she looked like ten and twenty years ago. As was everyone else on Earth, she was getting older and every time she peered in the mirror, she imagined she saw new wrinkles or new sags. Even though aging was inevitable, she needed time for her mind to catch up with her body. Even though she looked middle aged, she still felt young. She felt no different now that she was in her forties than she did when she was in her twenties. Certainly, she didn't feel 45-years-old and she still possessed much of the vibrant energy that she had in her twenties. She had yet to slow down. She needed a minor adjustment in her perception of her age and how others perceived her. She needed a reality check. Her only consolation was that she was aging with the rest of her peer group. Only, sometimes, whenever she was down on herself and in a funk, unbeknownst to her, she was aging better than the rest of them. Certainly, even without having plastic surgery, a non-smoker who exercised regularly and who watched her diet, and taking care to wear sunscreen when out in the sun, she looked ten years younger than her age and much younger than all of her friends her age and younger even. Where did the time go? Twenty years rushed by with the blink of an eye. As if it were yesterday, she still remembered being newly married. It wasn't that long ago that she was taking her children back and forth to grade school. It wasn't that long ago that her husband made his first million dollars, moved them from upstate New York, where she was from and where she met him, to this lovely closed community and exclusive gated estate in northeastern Massachusetts. She couldn't believe that was more than a dozen years ago. She remembered that she looked good, real good, ten years ago. She wished she could have always stayed thirty-five forever. She loved that age. She was old enough not to be bothered with all the immature bullshit, but not too old that she still couldn't enjoy all the immature bullshit. Some of her friends have already been under the knife and she envied the results, but cringed at the pain, the bruising, the swelling, the forced isolation while they heeled, and all they had to do to look how they do now. Was it all worth it? Not for her, it wasn't.. Blessed with good genes, she was glad that she didn't have to do all that to still look young and attractive. For the time being, she was content with her skills at applying her makeup. She felt that plastic surgery was a vicious cycle that had to be repeated in five to ten years, too. Always, there was the risk that something could tragically go wrong. Reluctantly, she decided, she'd rather age gracefully without having a surgeon pull, nip, and tuck her skin beneath her hairline and back behind her ears. How dreadful to have her face pulled so tight that it hurt to smile. Still, she had to give her brave, albeit vain friends credit. They looked ten years younger. They looked rested. They looked happy. Only, she was nervous.. She had heard some of the horror stories of botched surgeries and she was vain, but not vain enough to put herself in the hands of a surgeon's knife. Still, her friends pressured her to go ahead and, at least, have a consultation. She promised she would, but didn't. She was friends with Christine, Ellen, Audrey, and Brenda. They were all members in good standing of their little gang of women who looked like one another, dressed like one another, thought like one another, and talked like one another. They even had a gang name, The Rich Bitches, and a gang sign when out on the town shopping, the flash of a platinum card with an unlimited credit line. They lunched together, shopped together, and talked about their perfect little lives to one another. It was a glorious existence being rich and not having to work at a mundane job all day, while their husbands made money. Able to hire people to clean their perfect homes, care for their lush lawns, filter their posh pools, cook their delicious meals, pamper their precious pets, and drive them wherever they needed to go, they were free to indulge themselves at the spa for hair, makeup, massage, and skincare treatments. Except for the young men she dated in college, Kathy never had sex with anyone other man than her 52-year-old husband, Robert. Although, define sex, that is. As was Bill Clinton's definition of sex, she never had penetration from any man other than her husband, since she's been married. In Clinton's case, even though he didn't believe that an exchange of fluids constituted sex, Kathy did and in all the years of her marriage she has never exchanged fluids with anyone other than her husband. Certainly, there have been episodes of touchy feely, especially when alcohol was involved, but she was careful not to ruin her reputation for the foolishness of a flirtatious fling. She was a good wife and a good mother.. She was Robert's trophy wife and he was her security blanket. Robert liked how they looked together. An average looking man, short and stout, and looking much like the stereotypical banker and a bit like the man that appears on the cover of the Monopoly game, he was happy that his money could buy him the affections and loyalty of such a woman who looked as good as did Kathy. She appreciated how he kept her in the lifestyle that she had grown to love. In the way that there is someone for everyone, they not only deserved one another but also they were made for one another, the bitch woman with the rich man, which made her the rich bitch. Often, her husband commented that they looked much better together than did Senator McCain and his wife, Cindy. McCain was his idol and that fact gives you a bit more insight into Robert's political preference. She, on the other hand, certainly hoped they looked much better together than Senator McCain and his wife, Cindy, as Senator McCain was twenty years older than Robert and Cindy McCain was nearly ten years older than she was. Moreover, she preferred Obama over McCain. Still, she understood his reference of an older man with a younger woman, albeit Robert was almost eight years older than she was, whereas John McCain was eighteen years older than his wife. She never cheated on him. She never even thought about cheating on him. Although, there was that young tennis pro at the club that she was so smitten with and a new, handsome golf pro, too, who she found interesting enough to flirt with while having him give her some pointers with her game. Still, she'd never do anything more than masturbate in the bathtub while imagining them tying her up, spanking her ass, and forcing her to have sex with them. Oh, how this little vixen loved to vex men while playing the virginal victim. Butter would melt in her mouth, and her smile, when cast in your direction, would make you do anything she asked. Educated, articulate, intelligent, witty, and funny, she had the charm, the confident poise, and the practiced personality to make any guest feel at home and at ease while entertaining them with interesting conversation. When talking to you, she made you feel as if you were the only one in the room. She made you feel important and special. She had a knack for getting the best out of people. She made you feel that you had a chance with her should Robert suddenly have a heart attack and die or should they divorce. Little did they know that while she knowledgeably talked to her guests about current events or passionately discussed art or expressed her taste in music or recommended a good book or a fine wine, she was undressing their husbands with her eyes. Imagining them naked, imagining making love to them, and imagining sucking their cocks before and afterward, she hungered for the lustful attention of a man, any man who would show her the forceful sexual affection and domination that she yearned to have again. The husbands were unaware of her dual personality. If only they knew she was always so horny, they may have taken her up on her secret desire of needing to be tied up and slapped. If only they knew she was everything and so much more than what they imagined she'd be in bed, they may have been more forceful with her and gotten from her what they so wanted. If only they knew that she desperately wanted them, as much as they desperately wanted her, they definitely would have risked the scandal of a romantic affair to be intimate with her. Robert, on his best days and when in an amorous mood, was only an adequate lover. Nothing adventurous or spontaneous, as soon as she gave him a blowjob, he'd be off to sleep. Occasionally, he'd return the favor but, as he grew older, those days were getting fewer and further in between. Except for ones given her from her own hand and by one of her many sexual toys, it had been a while since she had an orgasm. Certainly, he had never given her one. He was always at the office and sometimes there on weekends, especially whenever there was a special deal going on or a special client who they were trying to romance to have them commit their assets or please to have them invest their investment portfolio with their firm. After having experienced every sexual position in her college days, after having a life filled with sexual activity, she had grown content just to tease men and show a bit of skin, while imagining them wanting her, undressing her, and making love to her. Recently becoming a bit of an exhibitionist, she enjoyed the attention she received when the guys stole a look up her short skirt or a nonchalant glance down her low cut blouse. She loved pretending that she didn't know she was showing. Whenever she saw a handsome man with a cute dog, she was never shy about squatting down to make a fuss over his dog while giving him plenty to see with a down blouse view of her breasts and an up skirt view of her panty. Athletic after years of dance classes and gymnastics as a child, but probably from playing a lot of tennis during the past twenty-four years, she always had shapely legs, a flat stomach, and an overall toned body. Without having celluloid saddlebags on her thighs or flabby wings on her triceps, she was proud of her firm, round ass and her permanently, perfectly perky, B cup tits were the envy of all her friends. She looked marvelous in a bikini and having seen her topless sunning by their backyard pools, her gang of rich, bitch friends were all surprised that her tits were natural and not surgically enhanced silicon creations. Flashing an attractive man accidentally on purpose was all just innocent fun and part of being a woman who still wanted to feel that she was attractive and desirable. Certainly, she didn't look her age and at 45-years-old, she was still young enough and looked good enough to command the attention of a roomful of horny and sexually unsatisfied men, especially those who were all her husbands age or a bit younger or a bit older. Now, instead of giving her body to whatever man who forcefully took it, she had grown content to just want to be noticed, wantonly wanted, and secretly desired. Now, instead of acting out her every horny thought, it was all left to her imagination while she masturbated. Besides, it was all just a game to her that made her wonder if she was going through the change of life. Suddenly, with the hot flashes she's been experiencing, she was horny all the time. As the way she was when she was in her late teens and early twenties, she was always thinking about sex now. If anyone could read her mind, they would see that it was filled with dirty thoughts of being bound while forced to suck cocks and fuck doggy style. For someone who looked so classy and who appeared to be an unapproachable, rich bitch, she was such a down to Earth, roll in the mud, fuck her in a haystack type of girl who loved to talk dirty while giving her lover everything he sexually wanted and lustfully desired. Her favorite fantasy was for two men to attack her. She imagined them tearing off her clothes. She got wet when she thought about them not unbuttoning her blouse, but ripping it open and exposing her bra clad breasts. She imagined them pulling off her skirt and breaking the zipper in the process. She imagined them slapping her across the face when she mildly resisted and cutting her bra off with scissors and doing the same with her panty. Now, stripped naked, she imagined the men touching her everywhere and forcing her to kiss them, first one and then the other while they caressed and fondled her tits and pulled and twisted her nipples. She imagined one man fucking her doggy style while slapping her ass and she imagined the other man forcing her to suck his big, hairy prick while pulling her hair and slapping her face. She loved thinking about that fantasy while touching herself at night. She liked being forced. So long as they didn't hurt her, she liked it rough. So long as they forced her, she'd do anything. Even though she didn't look the part, she enjoyed being treated like a dirty slut and an insatiable whore. Only, the difference is that, being married and playing the faithful wife to such a rich and successful man whose ability to get clients depended upon him having a sparking clean reputation, she couldn't get what she needed from Robert. He was a dud in bed. If only he would push her back on the bed and tear off her clothes, she'd never think of wanting sex from another man again. If only he would slap her around, she'd be satisfied to be his woman. If only he would tie her to the bed and demand that she do whatever was his desire, she would. He worked too many hours and went on too many business trips. Gone two and three days at a time, he was never home. Once in a while, on those trips where he was gone for a week at a time, he took her, especially if he was going to Europe, especially Paris or Geneva. Yet, having been there several times, she was bored to go again. It wasn't any fun to shop alone. She invited her friends, but they always had other commitments. She wondered if he was having another secret, sordid affair with another one of his secretaries or endless interns. He did have an admitted penchant for young and beautiful women, as she once was when he chased after her with gifts and promises of a good life. Besides, he was so polite, too polite for her liking. She loved talking dirty, but he didn't like it when she said anything vulgar or inappropriate, as he called it, during sex. She craved real sex and couldn't get any from him and being married and not wanting to ruin her financial arrangement with her husband as the faithful wife, she couldn't get real sex from anyone else for that matter. The only time her husband had been her lover was when they were dating and that quickly waned once they were married and even more so after the birth of the children. What is it with guys and children? Just because she's a mother now, doesn't mean that she's not the same woman with the same sexual needs. Now, thinking of her as the mother of his children, he doesn't even like cumming in her mouth. The last time he gave her a good fucking was when he made partner, but that only lasted as long as his Viagra pill. It was the same, dull Robert immediately thereafter. He was content to receive his weekly blowjob while fondling her tits and making a feeble attempt at rubbing her clit. She never had an orgasm with him. Sure, there were those times when she entertained and some of her friend's husbands had a little too much to drink and were too free with their hands. She'd be drinking too and it took her a few seconds for her to realize that there was someone's hand feeling her tit and fingering her nipple or someone peeking up her dress to get a look at her panties or lifting up the back of her skirt to get a feel of her firm, round ass. So long as no one else noticed, so long as she could laugh about it while playing the innocent virginal victim and maintain her respectable reputation, she loved the attention she received from men and had fun feigning her displeasure by slapping their hand away. She loved it when men were free with their hands and inappropriate with their suggestions. She loved the dirty talk and the innuendoes. She loved a good conversation filled with flirting, teasing, and touching. She loved feeling wanted and desired. Sometimes it was just a look that would make her know they were interested and make her want to flash them. Sometimes it was just a light touch of her arm or the small of her back just above her buttocks that sent chills down her spine, lust in her heart, and the feel of horniness in her pussy. Sometimes, it was just a cerebral connection that she had with someone on so many different levels and who she looked forward to seeing again. Yet, the ones who were rewarded with more were the ones who wouldn't take no for an answer. They were the ones who saw through her little game of teasing and mocked shock. They were the ones who grabbed her by the hair and forced their tongues in her mouth while they stuck their meaty mitt between her legs. They were the ones who she wanted and needed so as to feel that she was still a sexual and desirable woman again. In the next chapter Kathy reflects back on her past.
Chapter 2
Sure, there were those times when she entertained and some of her friend's husbands had a little too much to drink and were too free with their hands. She'd be drinking too and it took her a few seconds for her to realize that there was someone's hand feeling her tit and fingering her nipple or someone peeking up her dress to get a look at her panties or lifting up the back of her skirt to get a feel of her firm, round ass. So long as no one else noticed, so long as she could laugh about it while playing the innocent virginal victim and maintain her respectable reputation, she loved the attention she received from men and had fun feigning her displeasure by slapping their hand away.
She loved it when men were free with their hands and inappropriate with their suggestions. She loved the dirty talk and the innuendoes. She loved a good conversation filled with flirting, teasing, and touching. She loved feeling wanted and desired. Sometimes it was just a look that would make her know they were interested and make her want to flash them. Sometimes it was just a light touch of her arm or the small of her back just above her buttocks that sent chills down her spine, lust in her heart, and the feel of horniness in her pussy. Sometimes, it was just a cerebral connection that she had with someone on so many different levels and who she looked forward to seeing again. Yet, the ones who were rewarded with more were the ones who wouldn't take no for an answer. They were the ones who saw through her little game of teasing and mocked shock. They were the ones who grabbed her by the hair and forced their tongues in her mouth while they stuck their meaty mitt between her legs. They were the ones who she wanted and needed so as to feel that she was still a sexual and desirable woman again. Unlike some of her friends who had lost much of their femininity as they aged, Kathy reveled in being an attractive and desirable woman. She loved everything about being a woman, the flirting, the teasing, the attention, and dressing sexy. She loved the feel of her expensive, silk panty against her pussy. She loved the fit of her custom made bras. She loved how the cut and the fashion of her designer dresses made her look. Never would she leave the house without having her hair and makeup just so. Dressing several times in the course of a day, she took great pains and pride in choosing her outfits. Much like wearing an expensive bathrobe, she loved dresses that had no buttons or snaps and that were held in place with a single belt fashioned around the waist that she could tightly cinch to show off her curvaceous figure. It was so much easier to flash her body to someone while wearing that type of dress, especially on a windy day. Those were the dresses that made her feel sexy and made her feel excited to be a woman, especially when wearing her high heels, which made her much taller than most women. When she walked, she showed a lot of leg, from her knee to her upper thigh, with each long legged step. Always, it was her legs that got the men to look and look again. While sitting at a restaurant or outdoor café, half the panel of her dress would slip off and slide down from her shapely thigh and expose her creamy white, silk panty clad pussy to whomever was looking and there was always some man looking. She constantly and continually moved the panel back with her hand, but oops, it fell again revealing more with each time it slipped and slid from her thigh. It was those types of accidental on purpose fun games of teasing that she so enjoyed playing. Those were the dresses that when the cute, young waiter came to their table and she innocently leaned forward to read the menu, he stood at the perfect vantage point to see down her dress and down her bra. He saw more when he leaned in closer to her to show her a special on the menu; he saw her nipple. Hypnotize by the sight of her nipple, intoxicated by the smell of her expensive perfume, and dazzled by her beauty, sensuality, and sexuality, those in attendance could literally see him swoon while watching his big bulge grow in his pants. From Maitre D' to waiter to wine steward to busboy, always, she commanded the best service from everyone who waited on her. Those were the sexual scenarios that she masturbated to later in the privacy of her bedroom or bathroom. Those were the erotic thoughts that kept her somewhat happy, sexually satisfied, and able to continually bear an unexciting marriage of convenience with a man who didn't appreciate the rare erotic gem he possessed in her. Much like a diamond that glittered when polished, she was a sexual jewel who sparkled when she was manhandled and forced. A good looking woman, she'd been groped plenty of times before she was married and after she was married. She was even forced to touch a cock or two in the past, but she never considered that sex. She loved being touched, forced to touch, and manhandled. She considered that foreplay. Making her do the dirty things while pretending that she didn't want to do the dirty things was what lubricated her engine and made her wet with desire. She considered touching, feeling, groping, tugging, pulling, and slapping innocent fun and part of the disadvantages of entertaining with alcohol and part of the advantages of having a good time. Oftentimes embarrassing, most times awkward, and sometimes an arousing incident, always, it was best just to allow it to pass and forget about it rather than to degrade the experience or blow it out of proportion with unnecessary dialogue. She just accepted it for what it was, a flirtatious moment, caused by her change of life hormones and created by excessive amounts of alcohol. Paragons of good taste, a gentleman's discretion, and manners that come with the privilege of living with wealth, all of her male friends knew never to discuss what happened behind the tall hedges in the darkened corner of her backyard or in the deep and dark end of her dimly lit pool or inside the cabana or the guesthouse, that is, if they ever wanted it to happen again. Besides, it was much less than what she used to do in her college days in the backseat of a car or in a dorm room or in a fraternity house, when her dates would ply her with alcohol, give her drugs. She loved to wrestle with her dates, as they groped and touched her everywhere while trying and unbutton her blouse and unhook her bra to win their sexual reward of feeling and sucking her perfect tits. The end game was to get her naked and in bed. It was easy to do, once they figured out that she loved to be tied up and forced to do all those dirty and nasty things she protested she wouldn't. She loved it when the more she fought, the more they were determined to force her head down for a quick blowjob while feeling her tits and fingering her nipples. She loved it when there was more than one forcing her, two or three pinning her to the bed, holding her arms and spreading her legs. She loved it when the onus was on them for their bad behavior with her. Saving face and protecting her reputation, they were the ones who forced her, after all. They were the guilty ones. They were the bad boys. No matter how many men she fucked and cocks she sucked, she was still the virginal victim. After all, what was she to do? They were just too strong for her. At first, as a reward for their aggressive behavior, she found it easier just to do blow them than not. She was very submissive then and didn't like to appear stuck up or difficult. For sure, that would ruin her popularity. Then, later, as she experienced more men and as it took her more aggression to get her sexually excited, she craved and enjoyed the forceful pressure that came with protesting, saying no, and wrestling with her dates. It was a particular turn on when her dates held her arms behind her back and then forced her head down to suck their swollen cocks. She lost count of the number of cocks she sucked. Certainly, she could fill a large bucket with all the cum she swallowed and all the cum that they ejected all over her face, hair, and tits. She loved receiving a good cum bath. A good cum bath showed her their appreciation for the good job she did in sucking their cock. Word quickly got around that Kathy would never say no, so long as you were forceful with her, especially if you smacked her ass or pulled her hair, whenever she said no. She liked a man who knew what he wanted and who wouldn't take no for an answer. She enjoyed being forced. Certainly, she had a checkered past. Certainly, she was no prude. She sowed all her wild oats, then. She was lucky never to have gotten an STD or pregnant. Judging her by how she smells like a rose today compared to the shit she fell into with her behavior in the past, Kathy lived a charmed life. She was lucky that she was never hurt or raped or worse. Somehow, the men she dated all knew her feeble protests were just feigned and that she viewed sex as a game. If you could feed Kathy what she needed to sexually excite her, the wrestling, the hair pulls, the hand and arm tugs, and the ass and face slaps, she'd reward you with the best sex you ever had. Certainly, she was an amazing woman and every man's wet dream. Yet, even though she sexually experienced so much, never would she consider telling her husband about her sexual past, just as he never shared his sexual past with her. She had heard rumors that he was close, very close, to a man who he roomed with when he studied at the University of Oxford in England, while he was earning his master's degree in finance and economics. It was an unspoken code with them that their lives didn't exist before marriage. Just as, obviously, he didn't want her to know what he did and who he was with, he didn't want to know what she did and who she was with and she'd rather not say anyway. They liked to pretend that they were the only ones in their sexual lives and they so enjoyed the fantasy of being deeply in love with one another. Besides, what did it matter? It worked. In reality, driven by ambition, enjoying the power and always needing more influence to garner more clients and to make more money, he more loved his work and his career and she more loved the unlimited amount of money he made available for her to spend on those niceties and luxuries that she just had to have. So long as they silently identified that their marriage was a sham and much more of a business association than a union of love and kept it to themselves and kept it real without rocking the boat with dissention and pettiness, it worked. So long as they respected what the other needed and didn't try to change one for the preference of the other, they continued to live the good life. It wasn't so bad after all. Certainly, except for those times when she felt so horny, so lonely, and so restless that she just wanted to scream and run out in the street and fuck and suck off the mailman or the UPS man, it was more good than bad. Money has a way to sooth whatever ills the soul. Most times, he went his way and she went her way, meeting somewhere in the middle whenever they needed to be there for the children or to entertain guests and maintain their image of a happily married couple. Certainly, they weren't unhappy. They lived according to how they thought they should live. As long as they didn't question it, analyze it or examine it, there was no problem. Besides, her past was done. It was over. All of that rush of sexual excitement from experiencing hundreds of lovers and her unquenchable thirst for sex with her never ending need to orgasm over and again was so long ago. She was a completely different person now or so she thought. She thought that she could just turn off her libido. She thought by not thinking about her past that it would no longer exist. She thought by not thinking about sex, she would no longer want it. If she thought that money would no longer make her have those wild and wicked thoughts, she thought wrong. She was, indeed, the respected wife of an investment banker, the partner of a well regarded, old investment firm in puritanical Boston. What would the senior partners and the members of the board think if they knew that their junior partner's wife was a whore and a cum slut willing and ready to do anyone and at any time, so long as they tied her up, slapped her ass, pulled her hair, and forced her to do it? She imagined attending a board meeting dressed in her best business attire and allowing the old boys to all have a go at her right there on that great expanse of the mahogany, conference room table. She imagined them closing and locking the door and pulling shut the draperies before ripping open her jacket, tearing off her blouse, and pulling away her skirt. She imagined being dressed in her best hardware, stockings, garters, and pink bikini panties with a matching lace bra. She imagined them touching her everywhere and forcing her hand to feel their bulging cocks while unzipping them and taking out their pricks. She imagined them stripping her naked and forcing her to take turns touching them, stroking them, and blowing them while they pushed and pulled her, slapped her ass, pulled her hair or slapped her face. She imagined someone fucking her from behind while she sucked a cock. She imagined doing an assembly line of men. She imagined being stripped naked in the stuffy boardroom and being made to sprawl out atop the conference room table. She imagined being decorated with food, sushi, cold cuts, dips, fruits, vegetables, candies, cookies, and salads. She imagined the men eating off of her naked body and having their boardroom meeting, as if she wasn't even there. Then, after the meeting was over and the food was eaten, she imagined them fucking and sucking her while she fucked and sucked them. She enjoyed being used, abused, and degraded. What is it with food and sex anyway? Always, one makes you want the other. Only, she was glad she ran in a different circle of friends than those she had in college. How embarrassing would it be for her to run into someone from her past, someone who had forced her to fuck and suck them? The funny part was that there were so many young men who she had experienced that she wouldn't know one from the other. Conversely, they'd remember her, no doubt. Certainly, how could they ever forget the woman who gave them their hottest sex ever and the woman who gave them whatever they wanted, so long as they took it from her and forced her to do it? She was always mindful of her reputation and so long as you forced her to do what it was you wanted, that was her game. She thought of all the young men who she played the farmer's daughter being taken in the barn and on the haystack game, the store clerk being robbed and made to strip game, the bank teller held hostage and made to fuck and suck the bank robber game, the home invasion tie up and strip naked the housewife game, the sister, mother, aunt or sister-in-law incestuous sex game, and the hitchhiker being forced to flash truckers and suck off the driver, as he drove game. There were so many erotic games and so many sexual scenarios. The more she played, the more she wanted to play and the more she needed to create a new game. Every day was a different game with a different young man. She loved playing all those sexual games. She loved being the poor helpless pray begging them to stop and hoping that they wouldn't. She loved taking on different personalities, wearing wigs, and changing into different outfits. She loved pretending that she was someone else. She loved being so vulnerable while looking so sexy and wearing her special underwear and favorite red, blow me lip gloss. She imagined she could have been a call girl or a Broadway actress in an X-rated play. Her favorite game, by far, was playing the innocent virginal victim before being taken forcefully by two or three men. Had someone from her past found out about her now, no longer could she play the virginal victim. Yet, she was safe in her luxurious lifestyle of riches and sheltered in her pampered world of excesses. No longer did she have the identity of a slut or whore. Everyone knew her and respected her as Robert's wife. Her slate was clean for the past twenty-four years, since the day she graduated college and put all of that behind her for her new husband. Truly, in was such a waste and she was so wasted in a sexless marriage. Had she married another man for sex rather than for money or if she could have found someone with money who appreciated her sexual sense of adventure, how perfect her life could have been. In the next chapter Kathy reverts back to her old self and her old behavior.
Chapter 3
She thought of all the young men who she played the farmer's daughter being taken in the barn and on the haystack game, the store clerk being robbed and made to strip game, the bank teller held hostage and made to fuck and suck the bank robber game, the home invasion tie up and strip naked the housewife game, the sister, mother, aunt or sister-in-law incestuous sex game, and the hitchhiker being forced to flash truckers and suck off the driver, as he drove game. There were so many erotic games and so many sexual scenarios. The more she played, the more she wanted to play and the more she needed to create a new game. Every day was a different game with a different young man.
She loved playing all those sexual games. She loved being the poor helpless pray begging them to stop and hoping that they wouldn't. She loved taking on different personalities, wearing wigs, and changing into different outfits. She loved pretending that she was someone else. She loved being so vulnerable while looking so sexy and wearing her special underwear and favorite red, blow me lip gloss. She imagined she could have been a call girl or a Broadway actress in an X-rated play. Her favorite game, by far, was playing the innocent virginal victim before being taken forcefully by two or three men. Had someone from her past found out about her now, no longer could she play the virginal victim. Yet, she was safe in her luxurious lifestyle of riches and sheltered in her pampered world of excesses. No longer did she have the identity of a slut or whore. Everyone knew her and respected her as Robert's wife. Her slate was clean for the past twenty-four years, since the day she graduated college and put all of that behind her for her new husband. Truly, in was such a waste and she was so wasted in a sexless marriage. Had she married another man for sex rather than for money or if she could have found someone with money who appreciated her sexual sense of adventure, how perfect her life could have been. Back then, unsupervised by her strict Catholic parents and away from home for the first time in her life, she gave young men plenty of what they wanted when she was a college coed. Repressed by the Nuns in an all girl Catholic high school, she went wild once she enrolled in college and found herself in a different part of the country. Then, once she discovered alcohol and tried drugs for the first time, she was wild. Now, suddenly free to come and go and to do whatever she wanted and when she wanted, she was unleashed in her freedom and naked in her desire. Now, she was free to get laid and give blowjobs. Now, instead of being another trapped girl in a small town, she was a popular, sexy woman in a big city. Back then, before being married with children, she enjoyed being felt up, having her nipples sucked, her clit rubbed and licked, and her pussy fucked really hard, as much as her dates loved receiving a hand job and/or a blowjob from her. She was insatiable. She was the closest thing to a nymphomaniac, if there was such a thing. Her favorite thing was kissing and she prided herself on being a very good kisser. She had fun at every spring break event she attended and she attended all of them every year she was away at college. Topless or naked, it didn't matter, she entered every contest, excited to show all her body to whoever wanted to look. Back then, she had an amazing body. Genetically blessed, her 5'7" form was as good and as curvaceous as any beauty queen winner. With a beautiful face to match her gorgeous body, every testosterone filled man was on a mission to bed her and she did as many of them as she possibly could. Yet, when drunk and/or doped out of her mind, being bound, gagged, spanked, and blindfolded while offered to the roomful of horny men to be used, abused, and degraded was part of growing up or so she thought. Experimenting and experiencing young men and a few young women was her right of passage, as a sexual woman growing up in the age of free sex during the sexual revolution. Besides, she was over and done with that sort of lewd, lascivious, and lustful behavior. Now, she was the respectable wife of a rich, stuffy, successful investment banker. No longer could she afford to harbor those erotic thoughts of sweaty, naked bodies, big dicks, cum baths, raw sex, and her Devil-may-care attitude toward debauchery. Unfortunately, twenty-four years later, she remained true to herself and could only hide who she was for so long and those dirty thoughts resurfaced again, after one of her drunken houseguests removed her bikini top a few years ago. Celebrating her husband being made partner, the alcohol flowed as free as the hands of the horny husbands who cornered her behind the tall hedges in the dark garden. They removed her bikini top in the dark, deep end of the pool and played keep away with it with some of the other men at the party. When she stepped from the pool to retrieve her thrown top while modestly covering her breasts with her hands and feebly protesting their outrageous behavior, one of the men playfully, but forcefully grabbed her by her wrists and held her arms behind her back. From the chill of the night air after the warmth of the tepid pool water and from the sexual heat of having her tits exposed to seven horny men, that was all it took to start her erotic engine revving to the redline. Already she could feel herself getting wet and it wasn't from being in the pool. He exposed her beautiful B cup breasts to the drunken group of middle-aged men in attendance, while the others unsuccessfully tried to pull down her bikini bottom. Had she not had strong, developed legs and was able to keep her knees together, they would have stripped her naked. Still, touching her everywhere, feeling her ass and fingering her pussy, they were rewarded with numerous exposures of her firm, round ass and the dark hair of her trimmed pussy. No doubt wishing that their fat, genderless wives were as hot as Kathy and possessed such a genetically blessed body, they all took the opportunity to take their turns fondling her firm, beautiful breasts and fingering her erect nipples. She meekly struggled and modestly protested their assault of her body. Her feigned cries of protests were just a way for her to receive more admiring attention from the men. Flattery, attention, and groping would get you everywhere with Kathy, as long as you were a bit rough about it and as long as they forced her to do what their sexless wives wouldn't. It was a shocking game played on the hostess by horny husbands who always wanted to hump her in a hidden haystack somewhere. A couple of them were even bold enough to lean down and take her erect nipple in their mouth while swirling their tongue around it and feeling, fondling, and caressing her other breast. She thought she would cum in her bikini bottom when the man who held her arms behind her back also stuck both her hands down his bathing trunks. Certainly, this was the perfect scenario for her to explore without ruining her precious reputation. Her excitement was obvious and taking the cue from her reaction, one by one, they took turns holding her arms behind her back and sticking her hands down their bathing trunks for her to feel their erections. Hidden from view from the others, not letting the other know that they were all playing the same game, she didn't resist their outrageous behavior. Little did they know that by holding her arms behind her back and forcing her hands down their bathing suit to touch and fondle their cocks, they accidentally hit upon the secret formula that unleashed the sexual beast in her. As soon as her fingertips touched their erect cocks, it set her aflame with lustful desire. Fondling their cocks without their wives knowing and without her husband suspecting, she wrapped her fingers around their pricks and stroked them. It was a familiar game that she played so long ago when in college with most of the members of the varsity football team, basketball team, baseball team, soccer team, track team, and lacrosse team. Serendipitously jerking off the horny husbands of her invited guests, neighbors, friends, and co-workers of her husband, whenever she could get away with it and while preserving her respectable reputation by playing the innocent victim, was her secret fantasy literally handed to her by each man sticking her hands down their bathing trunks. It had been more than two decades since she felt so many cocks at once. She was out of her mind with lust. She was so very wet. She was so very excited. The only way the evening could be any better would have been if the men dragged her to the guesthouse and gangbanged her. She would have loved being fucked by seven horny men who wanted her as much as she wanted them. She imagined them standing around her in a circle while holding their stiff cocks in their hands. She would have loved sucking all their cocks, once they were done fucking her. As a physical show of their sexual appreciation, she would have enjoyed receiving a cum bath from each and every one of them. She imagined cum splashing across her eyes, nose, and mouth. She imagined her hair filled with cum and cum dripping from her tits. She imagined basking and bathing in their cum while still protesting them to please stop. Fortunately, her husband, the host, was in the house with the wives helping to make another round of drinks. Not so innocent himself, he was doing his share of flirting, touching, and feeling the bikini clad wives who were in attendance to celebrate his well deserved promotion. No doubt, they were exploring his cock, too. Certainly, she was grateful her husband and the wives of all those men who groped her and who made her grope them weren't witness to her public, albeit forced display of exhibitionism. She was happy that they didn't see her slut like behavior with her hands buried in the bathing trunks of their husbands. She was glad that she was able to play her favorite game of being the virginal victim while she received all that she wanted, being exposed, being felt up, and forced to touch the cocks of so many men who wanted her. Now, since that time, precipitating the sudden sensuality and sexuality in her behavior, she changed and reverted back to how she was, so long ago. The metamorphosis was complete. Changed from a college coed slut to a faithful, albeit rich, bitch wife that butter would melt in her mouth, she was now a cum slut again that cum would drip from her mouth, should she reach the point of passing fluids with any or all of these men. After that embarrassing, albeit exciting experience, she learned to stay away from the high hedges in the darkened corner of the garden and the dark, deep end of the pool, when having drunken pool parties, that is, until her husband and the other wives were preoccupied with one another and couldn't see what went on with her and their husbands. It was their little secret game they played when no one was watching and it was okay to play, so long as no one spoke of it later in the light of day. Later, she heard from one of the wives, who didn't participate in groping Kathy's husband, but who was contend and sexually interested and excited enough to watch the wives of many of the men who groped Kathy out back, grope her husband in the house. While he released their surgically enhanced, fake tits from their bikini tops, several of the wives took turns stroking his cock while mouthing it, as their personal present for his promotion. It was a secret game they all played. Yet, respectful of their marriages, mindful of his reputation and the unwanted scandal that surely would happen, he was careful not to cum and not to exchange fluids with anyone else but his wife, as were the other wives not wanting to exchange fluids with anyone other than their husbands. Still, she, the ever so virginal victim, had never been as violated. Her best friend's husband practically raped her in the pool and she may have allowed him to fuck her had she had just one more drink and had she not be so careful with her reputation. Certainly it was better to tease than to finish the act and suffer the consequences from the harm caused to her reputation by having adulterous sex. Truly, literally and figuratively, she couldn't afford to cheat on her husband. She had much more to lose by cheating than she had to gain by fucking the husband of a friend during the flight of her fantasy. Only, she so desperately wanted to experience his stiff cock inside of her. It had been a while since she felt a cock as hard and she would have blown him if given the chance. Her husband's medication has softened his libido as much as it has hardened his resistance to heart disease, high cholesterol, and high blood pressure. Only, hearing her neighbor talk about the incident, his cock wasn't so soft when he was feeling the tits of the wives of his friends and co-workers. He must have taken a Viagra, which would explain why he wasn't bothering for a blowjob after the party ended. The hands of her guests were everywhere. They forced her hand down by her wrists and into their bathing trunks forcing her to touch their erect cocks while they groped her tits and fingered her nipples. She was frightened and excited at the same time. She made a joke of it. "My, my, is all this for me," she said wrapping her fingers around their cocks and giving them a stroke or two. Blaming it on drinking too much alcohol, she touched several cocks of her guests that night. Able to somehow summon enough self-control to resist their forcefully aggressive behavior, she was only able to get away from them when they started kissing her and stripping off her bikini bottom, but not until they all had taken a turn at sticking their hand down her bikini bottom and fingering her pussy. "You're dripping. Did I make you all wet?" She was more embarrassed that they discovered, when they fingered her pussy, that they had made her so terribly wet than she was that they had made her feel their cocks or that they took liberties with her body.. She felt as if she was a wicked coed slut again after that incident and after getting wet for men who weren't her husband. It had been so long since she had felt sexual passion for someone else and she didn't know what to do with those feelings other than to use them to masturbate with whenever she was horny later. There was nothing else she could do with those sexual feelings. She wished she could have fallen to her knees and taken one cock after another cock and allowed them to cum in her mouth, all over her face, and across her tits. Yet, she couldn't afford to cheat on her husband. She couldn't afford to ruin the lifestyle that she loved and had grown so accustomed. In hindsight, even back then, there was a glimmer of something there that she had learned to repress, once she was respectfully married. Unable to admit it to herself until now, she enjoyed the sexual confrontation of men forcing themselves upon her, so long, that is, they didn't hurt her. Unable to do it otherwise on her own and without being forced and at the peril of her reputation, she enjoyed being forced to touch them. She enjoyed being taken and it was a total turn on when they exposed her body to others, as her pool guest had done by holding her arms behind her back to expose her tits when she was topless. Further, the outrageous sexual bonus was then they stuffed her hands down their bathing suits and forced her to feel their swollen cocks. Even now, years later, she still masturbated to her the remembrance of being so exposed and vulnerable. The fervor of the sexual fever only worked if she appeared to be the victim. Whenever she was made the victim, it was only then that she could let loose and lose control. Surely, a woman of standing in her community, she didn't want her reputation sullied. She couldn't afford to be deemed the cum slut that she once was and had always been and able to successfully suppress, until now. Calling negative attention to herself would ruin her husband's career and destroy her perfect little life. Surely, she wouldn't risk all that for some hot sex. In the next chapter, Kathy experiences more sexual situations.
Chapter 4
In hindsight, even back then, there was a glimmer of something there that she had learned to repress, once she was respectfully married. She thought she had put it all behind her. She thought it was a part of her life that was over and done.
She thought being a wife married to a rich man who loved her and being a mother to children who needed her would not make her have those wanton and lustful thoughts any more. She figured that she'd never again think about men tying her up, slapping her ass and face, and forcing her to do whatever they wanted. She figured that she'd never want to fuck another man or suck another cock, other than that of her husband. Only, she was wrong. Unable to admit it to herself until now, she not only enjoyed but also missed the sexual confrontation of men forcing themselves upon her, so long, that is, they didn't hurt her. Unable to do it otherwise on her own without being forced and at the peril of her reputation, she enjoyed being forced to touch them. Even though she was a respectable wife and mother, it was all just game that she needed to continue to play. She enjoyed being taken and it was a total turn on when they exposed her body to others, as well, as her pool guest had done by holding her arms behind her back to expose her tits when she was topless, while the men in attendance took turns feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples. Further, the outrageous sexual bonus was when they stuffed her hands down their bathing suits and forced her to feel their swollen cocks. Even now, years later, she still masturbated to her remembrance of being so exposed and vulnerable. The fervor of the sexual fever only worked if she appeared to be the victim. Whenever she was made the victim, it was only then that she could let loose and lose control without fear of repercussions. Surely, a woman of standing in her community, she didn't want her reputation sullied. She couldn't afford to be deemed the cum slut that she once was and had always been and was able to successfully suppress, until now. Calling negative attention to herself would ruin her husband's career and destroy her perfect little life. Surely, she wouldn't risk all that for some hot sex, would she? She remembered back so long ago when Mandy and Randy were so very young. Her husband was having an affair with his secretary. She inadvertently discovered the affair when she found a sexy card that her husband had stashed away in his sock drawer, along with a naked photo of his secretary, when she was packing his bag for another business trip he was taking to Bonn or Hong Kong, she couldn't remember which, it was so long ago. She remembered being so hurt. She remembered always thinking about having an affair and always wanting to have an affair with someone who she met or was attracted to, but she always controlled her desire to have sex out of her marriage for the sake of scandal and for the sake of her children. She couldn't believe it when she discovered that he was cheating on her, the bastard, the dirty bastard. How dare he do that to her, his trophy wife? How dare he disrespect her after all the sacrifice she had done to be a good wife and a good mother? How dare he cheat on her when she hadn't cheated on him? Now, with her self-esteem tarnished from him cheating on her and her tough, sexy veneer cracked from him wanting someone else other than her, she snapped. She threatened him with divorce. She threatened to take custody of the children. She, his perfect wife, threatened to take his perfect house and ruin his perfect life. She threatened to take half of what he had amassed during their marriage. Only, as the good businessman he was, he had his lawyer negotiate a settlement to sooth her hurt feelings, assuage her self-esteem, and appease her. He set her up with a generous expense account of her own and with money to do whatever she wanted, money that was in addition to what she needed to run the house and what was required to pay the monthly expenses. Further, he gave her a platinum credit card with an unlimited credit limit with no questions asked. He just directed his accountant to pay the bill every month. He didn't even want to know what or how much she charged. He gave her more freedom to do whatever and go wherever and whenever. In doing so, that gave him more freed, too, to do whatever, wherever, and whenever. The only stipulation was that neither was allowed to pass fluids with another person. It sounded simple enough, but after the years passed with different people coming in and out of their lives, it wasn't always so easy to stick to the signed agreement. Oh, and she had one stipulation herself for him, too. She had him fire his sexy secretary and hire one who was not as young, not as attractive, and one who was more mature in her emotional makeup and more professional in her secretarial skills. Here she was the desirable one, the hot woman and her short, overweight husband was having an extra marital affair. He was cheating on her. No doubt, he was rich, powerful, influential, and could not only get whomever he wanted by throwing money at them but also he could get away with it. No doubt, he, too, needed to feel that he was as powerful and as influential as he was rich by having a beautiful, young thing fawn over him for some trinkets that arrived in blue boxes from Tiffany & Co. It was difficult getting older, and now that he was a partner, she understood that he was feeling the pressure of competing against men who were half his age. Just as she needed to feel young, vibrant, and needed, he did too. Nonetheless, different always for the man, the double standard reared its ugly head, yet, again. It was okay for her husband to fuck someone else and to have his cock sucked; he wasn't worried about his reputation in the way that she was. It was okay for him not to be concerned with her image should her friends and family find out about his affair. It was okay for him to exchange his fluid with another, but had she done the same, she would have been bounced out of the marriage on her ass and he had the money, the power, and the influence to do it and to take the children with him, too. She would have lost everything, whereas, he would have lost a few clients. Sure, he could lose a client or two, if word got out that he behaved immorally. Direct descendents of the puritanical Pilgrims and the idealistic founders of America, the Cabots, the Forbes, Hunnewells, and the Lodges, he was entrusted with the old Boston aristocracy Brahmin money from Back Bay and Beacon Hill. Born to a long line of Brahmins, he was one of them, which is why they trusted him with their money. There was real wealth from all those proper Bostonian families who, back in the late nineteenth early twentieth centuries, used to parade down Commonwealth Avenue every Sunday in full pastel regalia with all their children in tow, while wearing their best bonnets, long dresses, sun umbrellas, and suits. Making up the lion share of his client base, he was responsible for the financial direction of a hefty portion of Harvard University, MIT, Boston University, Northeastern University, and Boston College's vast endowment funds. Because his best friend was chancellor of the university, once, he got Harvard, he got MIT and then the other colleges followed behind them, guaranteeing his company overwhelming and unprecedented success and him a full partnership in the firm. If they wanted to continue to rake in monies from their wealthy alumni, none of the institutions of higher learning would tolerate any resemblance of impropriety or scandal. Entrusted with their money, his socially inappropriate and recklessly irresponsible behavior would lead his powerful, albeit paranoid and puritanical financial clients to speculate that he would behave the same with their funds. Yet, she stood to lose more than he did. She could lose her Sugar Daddy of an arrangement. She could lose her luxurious lifestyle. Now, after being married to him for twenty-four years, there was no way that she was stepping aside for some bimbo who was younger and prettier than her. Moreover, there was no way that she was throwing it all away for some hot, sweaty sex with a young stud or a horny buck. Yet, God forbid she had an impure thought. God forbid she acted upon her lustful desires to recapture the sexual fun she had so long ago. God forbid she wanted to experience some hot sex from a young, hard body, she'd be deem a slut when he was deemed the man. She needed someone to fawn over her, too. She needed the attention of someone who wanted her in the way that her husband once had. She missed the romance. She missed the spontaneous love making in every room of the house. She missed receiving surprise flowers, thoughtful notes, romantic cards, and the extravagant contents of blue boxes from Tiffany & Co., too. Taking her for granted, he hadn't been paying her much attention and she suddenly felt unattractive, especially when she saw how young and how good looking his secretary was. It was a time when she had been drinking more than she should have and popping valium to sleep at night. Between her up and down mood swings and her lackadaisical lethargy from feeling the effects of her drugs, sometimes it was difficult to stand upright never mind being able to function. Meanwhile, her hormones were raging and her constant horniness controlled her daily sexual thoughts and randy behavior. Feeling depressed, lonely, and more vulnerable, it happened during one of her dinner parties and it was totally innocent on her part. Had she planned this, it never would have happened as well as it had. She was upstairs in the powder room when, again, one of her younger friend's husbands entered as she was powdering her nose. "I'll just be a moment," she said with a nervous laugh when he opened the door enough to see her reflection, as she stood brushing her hair at the mirror. She was glad that she was fully dressed. Only, as soon as she thought that, she wished she had been in her sexiest of lingerie while striking a seductive pose. She thought of Mrs. Robinson seducing Benjamin in the movie, The Graduate. She thought of being as coy as Lauren Bacall or Bette Davis in their roles as a seductress. She wished she had a cigarette with a cigarette holder for a prop only she didn't smoke and couldn't come up with a repartee for this particular situation fast enough to suit her. She wished she had been naked. How perfect that would have been to accidentally on purpose expose her body to him? No way would that be construed as her fault. He was the one who disrespected her privacy by opening the bathroom door. He was the one who was so forward hoping, no doubt, to see something that he shouldn't. Had she been standing there in her lingerie or totally naked, she could still maintain her reputation of virginal victim and no one would be the wiser. She would have loved to show him her permanently perfect perky breasts, her round, firm ass, and her trimmed pussy. It surprised her when he entered the bathroom with her in it and closed the door behind him. Her heart was pounding, her pulse was racing, and immediately she felt a familiar wetness between her thighs. Brash and unabashed, this thirty-something-year old walked to her, took her in his arms, and kissed her hard while reaching down and behind her to cup her exquisite ass through her skirt. When she pushed her hands hard against his chest and tried pushing away from him with all her strength, in her feeble attempt to resist his charms and to resist his passion, he didn't take no for an answer. He pulled the hairbrush from her hand, lifted her skirt all the way up to her back and exposed her creamy beige, silk panty clad ass in the reflection of the mirror. She watched him look at her ass in the mirror before their eyes met. She turned to watch in the mirror his hand fondle the firm, roundness of her cheeks. She knew what was about to happen. She suspected that he was going to passionately kiss her again while fondling her ass. She imagined him trying to part her lips with his tongue; only, she would deny him that pleasure, that is, until he forced himself upon her more vehemently. Yet, he surprised her. She struggled against his will, but he was too strong for her. Then, he whacked her ass with the hairbrush really hard, not once, but twice, once on each cheek. She was shocked. She was surprised. Her mouth fell open. How did he know she was into spanking? How did he know that she would favorably react to that type of violent treatment? How did he know that he'd melt her with each quick, hard wallop of her hairbrush? She wanted to check in the mirror to see if there was writing on her forehead that read, spank me. His forcefulness and the sting to her reddening buttocks set her ablaze with passion and desire for him. Being so forcefully violated made her so vulnerable and she loved it. The warm sting to her ass brought back so many delightful memories of being stripped naked, tied, and spanked before being allowed to have explosive sex with several men. Again, she felt the warm wetness between her thighs. She imagined him taking her right there and making love to her on the bathroom carpet. She surprised herself again when she returned his kiss but only more passionately. Immediately, they were making out like horny teenagers in the backseat of a car after the Senior Prom, while her hand reached down to feel and to rub the bulge that his erect prick made in his pants. As soon as she surrendered her tongue to him, as soon as she wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands were all over her body feeling her tits through her dress, fingering the impressions that her nipples made, and lifting her dress to cup her ass through her panty while devouring her lips. He moved his hand to the front of her panty and with the deft touch of his fingertips; he pushed her panty aside, moved his fingers past her trimmed patch of pubic hair, and slowly started to rub her moist clit with his fingers. Just as she was getting aroused and just as she was getting wet, he firmly but forcefully pushed down on her shoulders forcing her to fall to her knees. Down upon her knees with her mouth only inches away from his bulging cock, she knew what was coming. She knew he wanted her to suck his cock. She knew that the extent of his passion culminated in dominating her and receiving a blowjob from her. Really, she didn't mind. She's been in this situation many times before.. Besides he was so young and he was so good looking. The fact that he wanted her, a woman old enough to be his aunt or his older sister, was flattering, to say the least. Even though she was down upon her knees, even though she was acting subservient to him, he made her feel all that she so desperately missed. He made her feel all that she needed. He made her feel like a woman. Yet, fearing that someone may come, when she resisted and tried to stand, he became more aggressive and slapped her across the face. It wasn't a hard slap. Certainly, it wasn't hard enough to leave a visual mark and nothing that she couldn't cover and conceal with a bit of blush if it had left more of an impression. Yet, the mark that it left her with was more of an emotional scar than it was a physical one. His slap was a sexual release; it was as if he had pushed her sexual on button. The slap unleashed what she had been successfully able to suppress for so long, until now. Now, she was a sex slave for cock, any cock, where the man took away her control and replaced it with his will. Young, old, fat or thin, it didn't matter what he looked like; it only mattered how he acted and how badly he treated her. She was shocked but excited when he unzipped himself and pulled out his prick. The rich, bitch wife of a successful, powerful, and influential investment banker was about to suck off a junior member of her husband's firm and the husband of a friend who she had grown to love. Before looking up at him with her big, bright, green eyes, she stared at his engorged member. The ever faithful wife she had been for so long, it had been a long time since she had a cock in her mouth that wasn't her husband's. Immediately, she reached out and took it in her hand and teasingly stroked it while her fingertips toyed with the head of his penis. Immediately, it sprung to life and grew bigger and harder with her gentle but experienced touch. She wrapped her fingers around it tighter and gave it a few slow strokes while making eye contact with him.. "Do you want me to blow you," she said looking up at him with her big, green eyes and in her best sexy voice. "Do you want me to suck your cock?" "Suck it, slut," he said in a stern voice, as he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head and her lips closer to his cock. "Suck my big prick, bitch, while I hump your face and fuck your mouth." He was a man who knew what he wanted and what he wanted was her and her mouth. He was so very hard from the lust that he had for her, harder than her husband had been in such a very long time and she was so very excited by his determined passion. The focus of energy that had heated her husband's financially success had cooled his passion for her and now she was vulnerable to a man who not only wanted her but also was willing to take her by force. Here was such a man with his prick at the ready and his passion poised and pointed at her mouth for her to take advantage of this sexual situation and she did. Here was such a man who wouldn't take no for answer. Here was the kind of man that drove her wild with desire enough to abandon her agreement not to exchange fluids with anyone else. With a hand to the back of her head, he pushed her forward. Unable to resist him, unable to control her passion for being forced, she didn't know why she did, but she opened her mouth and accepted his cock inside. She wrapped her hand tighter around his fat, stiff prick and began slowly stroking him while sucking him. Skillfully, she moved her tongue around the head of his prick, as she had done so many times in the backseat of a car or at the men's dorm room, frat houses or during spring break. Faster and faster she stroked her prick while she sucked and licked him. Immediately, he started fucking her face with his humping hips and torso. Immediately, he started fucking her mouth with his big prick. Now with two hands pushing on the back of her head, she could feel his cock traveling deeper down her throat while his big balls slapped her chin. She could feel his pulsating prick getting ready to explode his slimy and salty semen in her mouth and down her throat. She was taking all of him. Engulfing his cock with her hungry lips, as if she hadn't eaten food in a week, she was starving for his sexual excitement. She was blowing him. She was actually blowing him. She couldn't believe that she was blowing her friend's husband. His thighs were quivering and she knew he was getting ready to lose control. She looked up and his head was back and his eyes were closed. No doubt, she was giving him the best blowjob of his young life, much better than the dabbling blowjobs that he receives from his wife. Unable to control herself, no longer did she give a care about her reputation, about her sham of a marriage, and about the repercussions of possibly losing her luxurious lifestyle, she continued sucking his cock. She wanted to blow him. She wanted him to cum in her mouth. She wanted to feel the familiar taste of his cum hitting the sides and back of her mouth, as it oozed down her throat. She would have finished him off too, she would have broken her rule of not exchanging fluids, and she would have had him cum in her mouth and she would have swallowed and licked off every drop of him, had it not been for another guest knocking at the bathroom door.
"Kathy? Are you in there? Everyone is ready to begin playing Charades."
Charades? She was playing her own little game. Only, her game had nothing to do with make believe. Her game was sexual and her game was for real. "I'll be right down," she said removing his cock from her mouth to answer. "Okay," she said stepping away from the bathroom door and then stepping back again. "Have you seen Brad?" "No," she said standing just as Brad expelled a load of warm, gooey semen on her white carpet. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry," he said again immediately leaving the bathroom, as soon as the coast was clear. "Please don't tell my wife." It always amazed her that these men knew what she liked and what she was like. How did they know? Intuitively, they just did. Even though she tried to suppress it and put it all behind her, they somehow knew she liked it rough. They knew she was a slut. They knew she liked having her ass slapped or her hair pulled. They knew she liked being forced. They knew she loved cock. It made her wild when they held her arms behind her back and touched her. It was because he slapped her ass with the hairbrush, forced her to her knees, pulled her hair, and pulled her head forward to take his cock in her mouth that she blew him. His violent behavior excited her. Contrary to the gentleness and gentlemanly behavior of her husband, she more enjoyed the behavior of a brute. Just like it was back in her college days, more than once she imagined being tied up and gangbanged by a group of men, so long as they didn't hurt her and let her go after they were done with her. Everything was so perfect and Kathy was so very happy, that is, until the day that a burglar changed her perfect life forever. In the next chapter, a burglar ties up Kathy.
Chapter 5
It always amazed her that these men knew what she liked and what she was like. How did they know? Intuitively, they just did. Even though she tried to suppress her sexual desires and put the need for bondage and discipline behind her, they somehow recognized that fetish about her and knew she liked it rough.
Only, how did they know? It was a question she asked over again and the answer baffled her. How did they know she was a slut for cock? Again, how did they know? They knew she liked having her ass slapped or her hair pulled while being forced to give them what they wanted. They knew she liked being forced when making her blow them. They knew she loved cock. It made her wild when they held her arms behind her back and touched her while forcing her to touch them. It was because he slapped her ass with the hairbrush, forced her to her knees, slapped her across her face, pulled her hair, and then pulled her head forward to take his cock in her mouth that she blew him. She needed that aggression to excite her and it was his violent behavior that excited her enough to suck his cock and she would have finished him off, had someone not come to the bathroom door looking for her. Contrary to the gentleness and gentlemanly behavior of her husband, she more enjoyed the behavior of a brute. She enjoyed being used and abused. Slap me silly and tie me up, there was something so sexually exciting about a man who knew what he wanted and who took it from her. That's what revved her engines to overdrive. Just like it was back in her college days, more than once she imagined being tied up, slapped around a little, and gangbanged by a group of men, so long as they didn't hurt her and so long as they let her go after they were done with her. Everything was so perfect in Kathy's life. She had the big house, the expensive cars, the luxury trips, the extended shopping excursions, the endless supply of money, the one-of-a-kind jewels, and she had her precious pearls. She possessed many items that were more valuable than her pearls and except for her flawless, five karat, princess cut diamond ring, there was no other piece of jewelry that she cherished and wore as much, as she did her pearls. She loved her pearls and she loved wearing them. She was so very happy, that is, until the day that a burglar changed her perfect little life forever. When she left, she thought her house was secured and it was, but not from a professional burglar intent on robbing her. He knew where all the security cameras were on the golf course and once past her backdoor gate with his passkey and now hidden from view from the other golfers on the course by her privacy fence that ran along her backyard and that protected her windows from errant golf balls, the burglar came in through the sliding glass door. Maintaining a low profile and carrying a golf bag, he pretended to be another golfer on the course. It was an exclusive club with members only and with all guests signing in; guests who must be accompanied by a member at all times. Then, after he finished robbing the place, he'd stash his bag of loot in his golf bag, continue his game of golf, and head home to the other side of the 3rd green where he lived. It was a perfect crime that he had perfected over several years and dozens of burglaries. He had spent considerable time planning and casing her house. He knew that both her son Randy and daughter Mandy were away at college. He knew that Kathy's husband, Robert, had already left for work. He knew they didn't have a dog. He even knew that the house cleaner didn't come until tomorrow, the pool man wasn't due until Monday, the gardener had already come and gone, and the rest of the staff, the maid, the butler, and the chef were dismissed from duty today, as the madam of the house would not be at home. The only fly in the ointment was the chauffeur who usually doubled as an armed bodyguard, but they didn't have one. Feeling safe and secure in the private confines of their exclusive residence, even though it had undergone some recent house break-ins, they thought it would never happen to them. Besides they had a state of the art alarm system and a secure safe where they kept all their valuables. Moreover, Robert loved driving his baby blue Bentley GT and Kathy enjoyed the private comfort her AMG SL63 Mercedes gave her when she drove her car alone. Further, it was difficult flashing truckers her tits or toll booth attendants her pussy when driven by a chauffeured automobile that had dark privacy glass. He even knew that Kathy was leaving the house early to meet her friends in New York for a day of gossip, laughing, and shopping. They had already left the day before and she was to catch up with them later today for lunch. Her super fast luxury automobile made short work of the long drive from her Lennox residence that was hidden away in the mountains of the Berkshires of Massachusetts to the crowded downtown streets of Manhattan Island in New York. He surmised that he sometimes knew more about the people he robbed then they did. Yet, that was his job and that was the reason why he had never been caught. It was his business to know all this and he knew all this because he belonged to the same country club and was privy to much of the same conversations that the members had with one another. Nothing was ever forced. He never asked a question that would make someone suspicious or jolt a memory from someone to remember that he was the one seeking the information that was required to rob someone's house. He just listened and watched and waited. He was in no hurry after all. He lived here. He was already home. His victims would tell him everything he needed to know, which is why they were his victims. He didn't have to go looking for them because they came to him. So long as he listened, so long as he watched, and so long as he waited, the perfect opportunity would present itself to him. It always had before. He was in no hurry. He had plenty of money to wait it out until the right job came along. Greed is what put a lot of smart guys in jail. He wasn't greedy. He didn't have a wife to satisfy or children to feed. He lived alone and all he needed to keep him in the lifestyle that he had become accustomed was to hit four houses a year, any more than that and it was as much of a bonus as it was risky. He only took what he needed, never burglarized in the nighttime, never carried a weapon, and he always worked alone. No one knew he was a burglar, not his friends or family, and surely not the police. He had no record, not even a parking ticket. He was safe in being anonymous. Always, he kept a low profile. Always, he remained in the background. Generally, he was invisible learning early to never flash cash around because that would surely call attention to him. He didn't even wear jewelry, only a watch, an old Rolex that he inherited from his grandfather. He never became attached to what he stole.. The platinum, the gold, and the precious gem stones never attracted his interest, as they did those who paid a small fortune to buy them and to those who ended up hoarding them. He was satisfied just to steal them to sell them. The thing he loved was money. Money would buy him his freedom one day. Money would allow him to disappear somewhere in the South Pacific to live out the rest of his life in luxury with a woman half his age. As once did Hemingway, he imagined her having nipples that pointed to the sun, a face that he never tired staring at, and a tan that contrasted with the white sands of the private beach he owned. He imagined a place that had no cars and no roads. Wherever he wanted to go to the mainland, he traveled by boat. He knew to never lose control of his emotions by drinking too much or talking too much nor did he want to appear odd by talking too little. It was a balance to maintain his anonymous lifestyle and to avoid suspicion. Always, he remained in control and he trusted no one but himself. Some of the conversation he overheard and other conversations he listened to were innocently imparted to him over drinks at the bar. They didn't know he was listening nor did they know he was a burglar. They thought he was a retired businessman and a man of the world who grew tired of work and traveling and just wanted to play golf all day. They thought he was one of them. It was a small community of wealthy people. Certainly, it was worth the five figure membership fee for the burglar to join the club. This is where he found all his victims, after all. After shooting a round of golf and buying them a few rounds of drinks in the clubhouse, they told him all he needed to know. They told him who had what and where they kept it. People liked to brag, especially once the alcohol loosened their tongues and especially when they thought they were in the company of someone they felt they could impress and/or trust. He preferred hitting a house every season. That way, by the time he was ready to hit his next house, the police investigation had cooled and the heat was off. Except for those that it happened to, once the insurance paid the claim for their losses, the community of perfect people forgot that it ever happened. People of wealth had a short memory of being robbed of so little. The money he stole was incidental and the jewelry he took was mere bobbles. They hoarded their real money in investments and kept the good jewelry in safety deposit boxes. Once in a while he'd get lucky and catch them with their pants down, usually after they've been to an important dinner or function and didn't have the time or forgot to return their jewels to the bank for safe keeping.. There were enough rich people who lived here that he could burglarize four homes a year for the next ten years and retire rich. Unless the house changed owners, never did he hit the same house twice. So as to not make him suspect, he even pretended that he was robbed. He even collected from his insurance company on the bogus claim that was supported by the routine investigation done by the local police. Plenty of the members were there ready to commiserate with him and to further take him in their trust. After all, he was just burglarized, too. They'd never suspect him now. He thought there was no one home and at the time he had entered the house, there was no one home. It was empty. He had seen Kathy leave for New York in her car. He even knew how to bypass her alarm. He had the same alarm in his house. Only, Kathy returned home for her forgotten pearls. Even with this sudden turn of events, so long as he remained motionless to not to set off the motion detectors, he would have turned back on the alarm and remained hidden in the house and unnoticed by Kathy until she took her pearls and left again, except he had already bagged her precious pearls. He wished he hadn't been so quick to hit the jewelry box that was in plain sight on her bedroom dresser. He should have stuck to the contents of the safe and left. He would have already been gone had he not strayed from his motus of operandi by taking anything that was not in the safe. He would have been in and out before anyone had known. He would have been long gone before she returned home for her pearls. Kathy opened the front door and immediately she panicked when she went to turn off the alarm and it was off already. "Damn! Did I forget to turn on the alarm again? No, I distinctly remember setting the alarm, hearing the beep, and locking the door." She knew she had been robbed. She hadn't been gone that long, only about twenty minutes. Maybe they were still in the house. Get out! Get out now and call the police! Just as she turned and headed for the front door, she saw him. "Who are you?" "Relax." "What do you want?" "I'm just here to rob you." "My husband will be home any minute." "I'll be gone in just a few minutes." Details she said to herself, remember to get details of what he looks like so that you can report him to the police. Only, he looked like any other middle aged golfer to her with his Scottish cap and brightly colored golfing attire. There was nothing special about him or his clothes. She was inching her way towards the alarm to hit the panic button but, from where she was, she could see that he had already disabled it. "Please don't hurt me." "I'm not here to hurt you, but I will if you don't cooperate with me. Now, get in the bedroom, please," he said. "Take what you want, just don't hurt me." "I've already taken all that I want and all that you have," he said holding up a small, leather valise that was the perfect size to fit at the bottom of his golf bag. "My pearls? You took my pearls," she said with her eyes welling up and her voice cracking. "They were a gift. They are special to me. Please don't take my pearls." "Yeah, well, your insurance can buy you new pearls." He gave her a push. "Now, move your sweet ass in the bedroom." Afraid and fearing for her life, she did what he told her to do. "What are you going to do with me? Can't you just leave? I promise I won't call the police. You can take all that you have. Just go," she said. "You can even take my car. It's parked in the driveway and the keys are in my purse. There's money there, too, a few thousand dollars, I think." "Yeah, sure, lady, I'll never make it off the golf course before the place is surrounded and swarming with cops. Do I look like I was born yesterday?" "No." "Do I have sucker written on my forehead?" "No." "Then, get in the bedroom like I told you to do." "Okay, okay, I'm going. Just don't hurt me." "I'm not going to hurt you." Kathy walked down the hall with the burglar behind her. She entered her bedroom. "Get on the bed." "Please don't rape me," she said suddenly excited by the thoughts of him pushing her down on the bed, stripping her naked, and forcing himself on her. She imagined him forcing her to kiss him and slapping her face, pulling her hair, and spanking her ass when she refused. She imagined him tearing open her blouse and fondling her tits through her bra. She imagined him tearing off her skirt and touching her pussy through her panty before moving the material aside to violate her with his fingers. She imagined him cutting off her bra and panty with a pair of scissors and being naked while he got naked, too. She imagined him touching her everywhere before fucking her really hard and then pulling her hair, slapping her face and ass again while forcing her to blow him. "Lady, I don't want your body. I just want your money and jewels and I already have those. Now, do what I say and just get on the bed, please." Deflated that he didn't want her, she sat on the bed thinking that he was very polite. He sounded educated, too, college educated. She wondered where he went to school. She wondered why someone so educated would turn to a life of crime. She wondered what his first name was. She thought about the cat burglars in the movies. Then, she thought about the Pink Panther. He did look a little like David Niven. "What are you going to do?" "Lie down please." "Tell me first, please" she said looking up at him and making eye contact. "What are you going to do? I need to know." "I'm going to tie you up, but I'll make the ties loose enough that if you struggle enough, they'll loosen. Okay?" "I have people, friends, expecting me in New York. If I don't show, they'll worry and call the police." "Like I said, Lady, if you wiggle around a bit, you'll free yourself." She felt a twinge of warm wetness between her legs as soon as he said that he was going to tie her up. "Okay," she said reclining back. "Are you comfortable?" "Yes." "What do you have that I can use to tie you up?" "I have some scarves." "Where?" "In the top drawer of the dresser. Use the silk ones please. They won't leave a mark." He looked at her before opening the drawer. "You've been tied up before?" "No, uhm, I read a lot of crime novels." "That's funny. I didn't see any crime novels when I was looking around your house." "I get them from the library and return them," she said suddenly feeling awkward by the conversation. She didn't want him to know that she was enjoying this. For her to continue her sexual excitement, she needed him to think she was a victim. He opened the drawer and looked through her things. "There are only panties in here," he said holding up a handful of her most delicate delicates. "C'mon, lady, I'm not here to play games." "Sorry, they are in drawer beside that one." He opened it and pulled out four scarves. He tied one wrist to the bed post. Then, he tied her other wrist. "Spread your legs." "If I do, I'll be totally exposed," she said biting her lip with the thought of it. "You'll see my panty." "I promise not to look." Kathy spread her legs and when she did her skirt rose up to the middle of her thigh. If he was looking he could clearly see between her legs. If he was looking, he could clearly see her sheer panty. He was looking and it excited her to see him look. She watched him look and then look away, as if he was embarrassed. She watched his eyes dart back and away again. It was apparent to her that he was interested but didn't want her to catch him looking. It excited her to catch him looking. She was especially fond of the game of exhibitionism and voyeurism. She had played this game many times before with many different men. "Wait." "Now what?" "I have to pee. Whenever I'm frightened, I need to go." He untied her wrists. "I told you already, I'm not going to hurt you. There's no reason for you to be frightened. Okay, get up and go pee." "Thank you." Kathy walked to the bathroom. "Leave the door open." "Do you want to watch me pee?" "Not unless you want me to watch," he said with a smirk. She raised her skirt to her waist, pulled down her panty, and sat on the toilet while staring at him. He averted his eyes. She wiped herself and when she stood and pulled her panties up, he looked before looking away. It was a brief look but it was enough of a look that he caught a glimpse of her pussy and the side of her ass. Now that she knew he was interested, she knew she had him and could use that weakness against him for her sexual benefit. She walked back to the bed and casually lifted her skirt higher before reclining back down and spreading her legs. Now, her skirt was even higher than it was before. It made her wet being so exposed to him. He tied one ankle. "Wait." "What now, lady?" "I have a cramp." She raised her leg, bent it, and flexed it. She didn't have a cramp. She just wanted to move her leg around to raise her skirt up even higher. She just wanted to tease him. She just wanted to watch him pretend not to look. She just wanted her pearls back. Now, her skirt was at the top of her thighs and her puffy mound and camel toe beneath her sheer panty was clearly visible to wherever he stood. He tied her other ankle. "Please, that's much too tight," she said. "How's that?" "Better." "There, I made them loose enough that if you squirm and wiggle around for ten or fifteen minutes, you'll be free." "Thank you." "You're welcome." He headed for the bedroom door. "Wait," she said." "What?" "Thank you for not taking my wedding ring, but I'd trade you that for my pearls." "I don't want your ring." "Why? It's worth much more than my—" "It's not real?" "What?" She struggle to try and look at her ring, but her wrists were tied. "Surely, you jest." "You're ring is a fake. It's a good copy, though and worth a few thousand dollars, but it's not a real diamond." "How do you know?" "Lady, if I can't spot a fake diamond with the light on, I'd never make it as a jewel thief in the dark with only my little flashlight."
She was crushed. She thought it was real. Surely, her husband could afford ten rings, a hundred rings. Why would he give her a fake?"
He turned to look at her and when he did, clearly he could see all that she had to offer him between her legs. Clearly, he was looking and clearly he could see her panty. "My pearls." "I told you lady that your insurance—" "You can touch me if you leave my pearls." "Pardon?" "I said, if you leave me my pearls, you can touch me." She was as excited for him to touch her as she was desperate for him to leave her pearls behind. "Lady, if I wanted to touch you, I could. You're tied up. Remember. And I could still keep your pearls." "Even though you're a burglar, I can see that you're an honorable man." "How do you know I just won't take advantage of you and still keep your pearls?" "Because I can read people and I know that there's honor among thieves." "But you're not a thief, are you?" "No, not in the way you think, but I have prostituted myself to my husband for the pleasure of his money and in that regard, I'm as much of a criminal as you are. I'm not a thief, but you are and I can see that you are an honorable one." "Look, lady, you're very beautiful and if I saw you under different circumstances, I'd be interested in starting a relationship. Without doubt, I'd be attracted to you, but I don't mix business with pleasure." "Kathy." "Pardon?" He already knew her name. He knew more about her than she thought. "My name is not lady. It's Kathy." "I'm pleased to meet you, Kathy. Please forgive my rudeness in my not introducing myself to you. I'm sorry but I'm not interested in a love relationship or a sexual affair. I'm just interested in your money and your jewels." He turned for the door, again. "I'll suck you off if you leave me my pearls." "Pardon?" He turned and looked at her. She was truly beautiful. She was one in a million. A bit older than he liked them, she was still beautiful enough to fulfill anyone's fantasy of having her as their only other resident on a Pacific Ocean tropical island of paradise. "I said I'll suck your cock if you leave me my pearls." He gave her a hard look while taking her all in with a lustful stare. "Really? You'll suck my cock?" "Yes." He gave her another long, lustful stare. "Have you ever given a real head banging moaning out loud blowjob or is that just something else you read about in one of your crime novels?" "Yes, I've given a few men the pleasure of oral sex." "I didn't know you rich bitches got down and dirty and sucked cock. I thought you all just pretended to enjoy screwing your rich husbands once a quarter out of financial duty, when the dividend checks were paid, while he spent his quality time with his mistress." "We're not all as detached and delusional as you think we are. We know what men want. How do you think we get what we want?" He gave her another long look that made her think that he was considering the proposition. What did it matter to him, they were just a strand of pearls. Obviously, they meant more than that to her. To her, they were twenty-four years of being faithfully married to a boring man she didn't love and who loved money more than he did her. Still, it bothered her about her ring and she would surely address that with Robert, once this was over. "Touché," he said looking at her again as if he was considering her proposition. "Nah, you just want me to cum so you can get my DNA. Is that it?" "No, no, really, I just want my pearls. You can take everything else. The pearls have special meaning to me." "Why?" "It's personal." "I can touch you?" He looked from her pretty face to her breasts to her panties and to her shapely legs. "Yes." "I can undress you?" "Yes." "I can fuck and suck you." "If you'd like and if that's what you want." "And you'll blow me?" "Yes." "I can cum in your mouth?" "Yes." "And you'll swallow it all? You won't play any games and drip some of my cum on your clothes for the police to analyze later." "My clothes? What clothes? You're no Bill Clinton and I'm not Monica Lewinski. You can strip me naked, tear them off my body, and cut off my bra and panty, if you'd like." "I'd like that." "Me, too," she said under her breath and too low for him to hear. "What about your husband? Where is he? I thought you said he'd be here any minute." "I lied." "How do I know you're not lying now?" "How do I know you'll leave me my pearls after you've had your way with me? We just have to trust one another." "I don't trust anyone, Kathy, especially not you. You'd tell me anything to save your precious pearls." "He's on his way to the airport for a business trip. I don't remember where this time. He doesn't always tell me since..." "Since what?" "Since he cheated on me and since we signed an agreement not to exchange fluids." "Fluids? You mean cum?" "Yes." "Then, what about this? What about me cumming in your mouth? What about you swallowing my cum? Isn't that exchanging fluids?" "This is different. You're forcing me to do that. You've already tied me up to my bed. Remember? So long as you leave me like this when you go, there's no problem." "For some reason, I believe you." In the next chapter Kathy gets her pearls back.
Chapter 6
"Touché," he said looking at her again as if he was considering her proposition. "Nah, you just want me to cum so you can get my DNA and give the evidence to the police. Then, I'll be convicted for rape instead of burglary. Is that it?"
"No, no, really, I just want my pearls. You can take everything else including me. The pearls have special meaning to me. Please." "Why?" "It's personal." He gave her a long look looking from her shapely ankles to her beautiful face. "If I return your pearls and keep everything else that I've stolen, I can touch you anywhere and everywhere?" He looked from her pretty face to her breasts to her panties and to her shapely legs and back to her face again. "Yes and more than that, wouldn't you want to touch a woman who wants to be touched, a woman who is a willing sexual partner and a woman who wants to touch you, too?" "So, let me get this straight, I can undress you?" "Yes, you may undress me." "I can strip you naked if I so desire?" "Yes, of course you can strip me naked, silly. You can remove any and all my clothes slow and easy, one piece at a time, while you touch, kiss, and caress me or you can remove all my clothes rough and fast while you slap me, pull my hair, and force me to do whatever it is you want me to do. It all depends on what you prefer to do with me. It all depends on you. This is your fantasy not mine. This is my gift to you for the return of my pearls." "So, what you're saying to me is that I have your permission to fuck and suck you, so long as I don't take your pearls." "Yes, you can do whatever, so long as you don't hurt me and so long as you leave my pearls behind. If fucking and sucking is what you want, you may do that. Only, I'd prefer if you'd get me off first. I'd prefer you'd go down on me before I went down on you. I'd like to have a little fun, too," she said with a sexy laugh. "I like for you to eat my pussy first. As well as I love giving oral, I like having oral done on me, too." "I'm not forcing you to do anything that you don't want me to do. Right?" "No, you are not forcing me to do anything that I don't want to willingly do." "And you'll blow me after I eat you and give you an orgasm?" "Yes, haven't I said that already? I will suck your cock." In the way that she said, "I will suck your cock," would make anyone who heard those words not only believe that she really would suck their cock but also to want to be the recipient of one of her blowjobs. "I will give you a blowjob like you have never experienced before, so long as you leave me my pearls when you go. I will make you a sexually satisfied and very happy man." "I can cum in your mouth? And you'll swallow?" "Yes, I don't spit. I'm a lady. Besides, I haven't had my protein today," she said slowly licking her lips around with her tongue. "Matter of fact, not only can you cum in my mouth but also you can give me a cum bath, too, if you so desire. I love it when a man explodes his cum all over my face after shooting some of it in my mouth. It tells me that I've done my job and have excited him beyond his control." "You won't play any games and drip some of my cum on your clothes for the police to analyze later." "My clothes? What clothes? You're no Bill Clinton and I'm no Monica Lewinski. You can strip me naked, tear the clothes from my body, and cut off my bra and panty off, if you'd like. Besides, I told you that it's your choice. I'll swallow all your cum or I'll swallow some and you can give me a cum bath with the rest. It's your decision. It's up to you how you use and abuse me. This is your opportunity to explore your wildest fantasy through me. I'm a willing and ready participant." "I'd rather cum in your mouth have you swallow it all than give you a cum bath. I wouldn't want to leave any evidence of me on the sheets to be analyzed later in the police lab. Yeah, I'd like that.. I'd prefer cumming in your mouth and you swallowing it all." "Me, too," she said under her breath and too low for him to hear. "What about your husband? Where is he? You said he'd be here any minute." "I lied. My, my, if you analyze and question your burglaries as much as you do free sex, I'm surprised you rob anyone." "You lied? Then, you could be lying now. How do I know you're not lying now? How do I know you're not setting me up and instead of being caught and charged with just burglary, I'll be charged with rape, too?" "You don't know. How do I know you'll leave me my pearls after you've had your way with me, after you've fucked and sucked me, and after you've cum in my mouth? We just have to trust one another," she said smiling and batting her eyelashes at him. "I don't trust anyone, Kathy. You must realize that I don't trust you; especially at this point in time with you're tied to your bed and willing to do anything to get your pearls back. I find it difficult to believe that someone who looks like you is so ready for me to have my way with her. I think you'd tell me anything to save your precious pearls. And I do analyze all my jobs to great detail before taking the risk." "Well, you screwed up on this one, didn't you?" "I watched you leave. How was I to know you'd return home?" There was another uncomfortable silence before Kathy broke it. "My husband is on his way to the airport for another one of his business trips," she said suddenly looking sad and appearing lonely. "He's always traveling somewhere on the spur of the moment. I don't remember where this time. He doesn't always tell me since..." Her voice drifted off and she looked away. She looked as if she was about to cry. "Since what?" "Since he cheated on me and had a long-term affair with his slut of a secretary," she said with an angry tone to her voice that he had not heard from her before, "And since we signed a legal agreement not to exchange fluids with anyone else." "Legal agreement? What kind of legal agreement?" "He forced me to sign that if I cheat on him, he'll divorce me and I get nothing, not even the custody of my son.. If he cheats on me, well, I'll be set for the rest of my life and I'll be free without him. I'll get this house and get to keep my car, my jewels, and half of our stock portfolio." "I think you'd get much of that anyway being his wife. He just can't kick you out on the street. You'd have to attempt to murder him for him not to give you anything. Even, then, he'd be forced under Massachusetts law to give you something." "I agree and yes the agreement can be contested in court, but without a settlement, I'm not able to fight the legality of the document in court. I won't have the money for legal representation. He can, of course. He has the money, the power, and the influence to drag this through the courts for years with legal appeals. He'll have the services of an entire law firm to fight me for all that I deserve after 24 years of faithful marriage." "I'm sorry that your husband is such a bastard, but there are divorce attorneys who will gladly take your case and defer payment until after they receive a settlement on your behalf." There was an uncomfortable moment where no one spoke. Then, he did. "Fluids? By fluids, you mean cum?" "Yes." "Then, what about this? What about me going down on you? What about me cumming in your mouth? What about you swallowing my cum? And what about me giving you a cum bath? Isn't that exchanging fluids?" "Yes, it is, of course, and all that I suggested we do is exchanging fluids, but this is different. You're forcing me, supposedly against my will, to do all that," she said feebly struggling against her ties. "You've already tied me up to my bed. Remember? So long as you leave me like this when you go, there's no problem." "For some reason, I believe you. Just as for some reason I feel sorry for you. I'd hate to be in such an empty marriage as your marriage apparently is." "Please don't pity me. This was my choice. I married him for the money. I knew what I was getting into when I said I do. Only, I didn't know he'd cheat on me. I didn't know he'd cheat with a younger woman, someone half my age and someone who I was unable to complete with because of her age. She could have been his daughter for God's sakes. He's such a pig. Besides, I had my fun before I was marriage to him. I've experienced plenty of men before deciding to give and devote myself to only one man, my husband." There was another uncomfortable moment of silence where they both looked at one another. Then, she broke the silence this time. "Do you like games," she said giving him her most seductive look that would make any man's knees weak. "It depends on the game," he said turning to her and turning away from the doorway. "What do you have in mind?" "Well," she said, "I like playing games where I pretend I'm someone else." She looked at him and smiled. She was so very beautiful and even so much more beautiful when she smiled. No man could resist her charms when she directed her smile at them and especially now where she was so exposed with her legs spread wide open while her limps were tied to the bed posts with her silk scarves. "That sounds like fun, I guess. Only, I like myself. I don't need to pretend to be anyone else," he said making eye contact with her. "Is the reason why you pretend to be another because you don't like yourself?" "Oh, I like myself plenty. Trust me, I'm my biggest fan. Only, over the past twenty-four years, I don't like who I have become because of the way my husband treats me or more precisely, ignores me." "I see. Then, other than the character you play in these sexual games, which would you like to be," he said falling for her hook, line, and sinker. "The question more appropriately is who would you like me to be? I can become anyone you desire." She waited for him to respond and when he didn't she continued. "I could be your school teacher who you have fantasized about since your freshman year in college some twenty-five years ago. You could call me by her name and I could dress in a navy blue skirt and a white cotton blouse that buttons to my neck. I could even wear my garter belt and accidentally on purpose flash you my bright white, cotton panty while squatting down in front of you to tell you what a bad boy you have been. Then, I'd tell you that because of your bad and unruly behavior in class that I must pull down your pants and underwear, take you over my knee, and spank your naked ass with my ruler." "Where do you come up with these things," he said with a chuckle. "Wouldn't you like to feel your exposed erection on the soft material of my navy blue skirt? Every time, I spanked you, your cock rubs against my skirt and against my leg until you explode your semen all over my skirt. Wouldn't you like your first year college teacher to see you naked below the waist and to spank your ass? Wouldn't you like your freshman college teacher to touch you inappropriately while pulling down your pants and while wiping the cum from your cock with a tissue? Then, later, wouldn't you like to be really bad and feel her breasts while you unbutton her white, cotton blouse? Wouldn't you like to force your college professor to have sex with you?" "Sorry, I was home schooled." "I can be that airline stewardess who smiled at you and who made eye contact with, but you didn't have the nerve to ask her for her telephone number, when the pilot suddenly emerged from the cockpit. I could ask you if you wanted me to fluff your pillow and while I leaned over you with my big, firm breasts so close to your body that they rubbed against your shoulder...turbulence. I fall in your lap and your hands are all over me touching my breasts and feeling my ass while the aircraft is tossed back and forth in the sky. Somehow, one of your roaming hands even makes its way up my skirt and in between my legs. You feel my pussy through my panties, accidentally on purpose, of course." "You paint an erotic image." "Then, while I try and compose myself and while you try to help me up, there's more terrible turbulence and again your hands are everywhere taking inappropriate liberties with my body by feeling my breasts, my ass, and my pussy through my clothes. When I try and get up, I'm tossed hither and yon and my skirt gets caught on the mechanism of the tray table. Then, when the plane dives down and up again, the tray table lifts my skirt all the way to my waist. I struggle to get my skirt down, but it's stuck and I am stuck, too." "Oh my, you are in quite the pickle." "My panties are totally exposed to you. You help to release me, but must touch me to do that. You lift me up by my panty clad ass while your fingers find the soft, wet spot between my legs. Finally, I'm free to fluff down my skirt. I could even act embarrassed if that's what you'd like. I could even accidentally on purpose touch you and feel your cock with my hand, because of the terrible turbulence." "You forget though that I don't mix business with pleasure. I would never be inappropriate with a stewardess, turbulence or not." "I can be that sexy waitress who gave you an extra big slice of apple pie and who kept flirting with you every time she filled your coffee cup to the brim. I could pretend that I spilled a bit of coffee in your lap." "I don't know about having hot coffee spilled in my lap." "I could flash you my panties when I squatted down to wipe the coffee from the floor. Then, I could fall to my knees with my napkin while wiping the stain from the growing bulge in your pants, while you leer down my loose top at my bra and cleavage." "I wondered why so many waitresses do that to me whenever I'm dining alone. Now, I know. Maybe, next time I'll take advantage of the situation," he said with a chuckle. "While wiping the coffee from the big bulge that suddenly appears in your pants, my mouth is so very close to your cock. My mouth is so close that you imagine you can feel my warm breath on your cock through the thin material of your pants. I have a low cut peasant blouse that I can wear without a bra even, if that's what you want and if that's what will excite you from when you can see most of my tits, even my areolas down my blouse. While wiping you, my breasts that nearly spill out from the top move from side to side and up and down in sort of a tit rumba while you watch. Would you like that to be your special fantasy?" "Sorry, but I don't eat pie, too many calories. I've been watching my weight," he said patting his flat stomach. "And I don't drink coffee, it keeps me awake." "I have wigs of all colors in my dresser drawer and I can be that pretty blonde who you saw at the perfume counter at Christmas time while buying perfume for your wife or girlfriend or significant other. I can spray a bit of fragrance on my neck and down my cleavage and then lean over you for you to smell me while you leer down my unbuttoned top and down my low cut bra." She gave him a sexy smile. "I saw you staring at my tits. Is that what you like? Are you a breast man? Do you like tits? Do you like my tits?" "I like tits and certainly, I like your tits from what I've seen of them with your clothes covering them." "So, tell me, do you like looking down women's blouses or are you an up skirt man. I've seen you taking plenty of sneak peeks up my skirt and in between my legs at my sheer panty. I bet you'd like to see me naked. I bet you can't wait to see my trim pussy, to touch it, to rub my clit, to finger fuck me, and to suck and lick my wet pussy while reaching up to feel my big tits and fingering my nipples. I bet you'd like me to be your fantasy woman." "I don't have a wife or a girlfriend or a significant other. Sorry, again, but I'm allergic to perfume." He gave her a knowing look and she returned his look. "No, I'm not gay if that's what you are suggesting with your look," he said with a laugh. "I can be that cute foreign hotel maid who appeared that she would have made more than your bed when you traveled away on business and were horny and lonely. You can strip and dash in the shower while I pretend I'm making your bed or you can pretend you are sleeping naked on the bed with the covers kicked off your body. Then, when you come out of the bathroom naked, we can either act surprised or when you awaken from sleeping naked on top of the covers with a huge erection and you see me there in the room staring at your naked body we both can act embarrassed," she said with a sexy smile. "I've experienced plenty of those embarrassing situations already." "I stare down at your erection and you offer me money, fifty dollars to give you a hand job. You are desperate for a sexual release. You are so horny and so hot for me. You reach out and feel my breast through my hotel uniform while unbuttoning my uniform. I watch you unbutton me. I act fearful, afraid to stop you. With deft fingers you flay open my uniform exposing my white bra and panty to your leering eyes. Then, you pull me by my wrist and place my hand on your cock. I wrap my fingers around your stiff prick and slowly stroke you. Your fingers quickly find my nipples through the material of my bra while your other hand feels my pussy through my panty.. You have hands like an octopus. You are incorrigible. You can't be denied, as you hump my hand with your cock." "If this is your game to make me hot with all this dirty talk, you're succeeding," he said with a sexy smile of his own. "You are actually very good at it." "I can even resist you in Spanish, French, German or Italian. Then, you offer me one hundred dollars to get down on my knees and blow you and you offer me two hundred dollars more to fuck you. I allow you to French kiss me. You reach between my legs and push my panty aside and violate me with your long, fat, stiff fingers. Then, you move my hand, the one that you put around your cock, and make me stroke you faster, before pushing down on my shoulders and pushing me to my knees. You pull my hair forcing me to open my mouth and when I do, you impale me with your stiff prick." "Sorry, but I don't do prostitution. There's too much free sex out there to have to pay for any of it from anyone. I'd have to be pretty desperate to offer someone money to take care of my sexual needs. Furthermore, again, I don't mix business with pleasure." "I can be that sexy redhead you see on the street that catches your eye as you are running for a taxi. Taxi! Taxi! We can share a cab, just like that movie with Angie Dickerson, Dressed To Kill, where a stranger removes her panty in the back seat of a cab and she has sex with him. You can act like the animal that you've always wanted to be while touching me everywhere. Then when the cab driver positions his mirror to watch the action going on in the back of his cab, you quickly undress me and expose my naked body, my tits, my ass, and my pussy to him before you push me down between your legs. You put a hand behind my redhead and push me forward. Now, I'm on my knees on the floor of the cab sucking your cock as you fondle my tits. Don't you see? I can be whoever you want me to be, it's all up to you who you want me to be and what you want me to do." She was so damn sexy to begin with and when she was aroused from being tied to the bed with her skirt hiked up to just below her panties, she was a vision to behold. She looked hot and she looked ready to be fucked and to fuck. Moreover, she wanted him to fuck her. She wanted him to stick his prick in her pussy and in her mouth. She wanted him to cum in her mouth and she wanted to swallow all that he had, so long as when he left, he'd abide by his gentleman's agreement and leave her precious pearls behind. It was obvious to anyone who had any sexual experience with women that this woman would be a real animal in bed. It was obvious that she wanted it and she wanted him. It was obvious by her non-stop suggestive monologue that she liked talking dirty and that her dirty talk was exciting her as much if not more, than it was exciting him.
In the next chapter the burglar confesses his sexual fantasy.
Chapter 7
"I can be that sexy redhead you see on the street that catches your eye as you are running for a taxi. Taxi! Taxi! We can share a cab, just like that movie with Angie Dickerson, Dressed To Kill, where a stranger removes her panty in the back seat of a cab and she has sex with him. You can act like the animal that you've always wanted to be while touching me everywhere. Then when the cab driver positions his mirror to watch the action going on in the back of his cab, you quickly undress me and expose my naked body, my tits, my ass, and my pussy to him before you push me down between your legs. You put a hand behind my redhead and push me forward. Now, I'm on my knees on the floor of the car sucking your cock as you fondle my tits. Don't you see? I can be whoever you want me to be, it's all up to you who you want me to be and what you want me to do."
She was so damn sexy to begin with and when she was aroused from being tied to the bed with her skirt hiked up to just below her panties, she was a vision to behold. She looked hot and she looked ready to be fucked and to fuck. Moreover, she wanted him to fuck her. She wanted him to stick his prick in her pussy and in her mouth. She wanted him to cum in her mouth and she wanted to swallow all that he had, so long as when he left, he'd abide by his gentleman's agreement and leave her precious pearls behind. It was obvious to anyone who had any sexual experience with women that this woman would be a real animal in bed. It was obvious that she wanted it and she wanted him. It was obvious by her non-stop suggestive monologue that she liked talking dirty and that her dirty talk was exciting her as much if not more, than it was exciting him. "There you go hiding yourself in a myriad of characters afraid to allow me to see the real you." He wiped a lazy hand over his face. "Who would I like you to be? I don't know. Maybe, I'd just like for you to be yourself," he said making eye contact with her and giving her a warm smile. "Maybe, I'd like to get to know the real you. Yeah, I think that I'd like to know the real you. From what I have seen, the real you is a good person. Moreover, in the way that you look, you don't need to be anyone else but you to arouse me to pure passion. You are an extraordinary woman in every way and it is you who arouses me more than do your fantasies." "Thank you," she said immediately softening and relaxing more. "I'm flattered." "Besides, I'm a guy who doesn't have a lot of fantasies. Don't get me wrong. I do have an imagination, as well as a sense of humor, and you do, however, open up a wealth of possibilities with this sexual game of fantasy and titillating teasing though. I can see that playing this game with you would not only be the most fun that I ever had but also would be very addictive. Surely, it is a game that I would look forward to playing with you over and again." He stood in the doorway watching her seductively moving around on the bed against the restraint of her ties. Her skirt was now nearly up to her waist and her trim pubic hair could be seen through her sheer panty even in the dim light of the bedroom. "So, shall we play a game, then, if this is what it will take to get my pearls back?" "And I'll play, if that is what it takes to have you," he said unbuttoning his shirt. "Do you have someone in mind that you'd like to pretend to be?" "Well, if you are into incestuous sex, I can be your lonely MILF of a mother or your sexy but spinster sister or your captivating and capricious cousin or your horny and lonely maiden aunt or your beautiful, but stuck up sister-in-law? I can pretend to be whoever you want me to be. I like to pretend." "No, with so many women ready and available to have sex with, I never understood the attraction of those men who'd want to have sex with their relatives. He laughed, "Besides, if you ever saw my sister, you'd understand why I don't lust over her." "You guys are all the same. Is she overweight by a few pounds? Is that why you don't think of her in that way? Is that why you don't think that she is sexy? You know, you're so typical of men. Women are supposed to have curves, you know. Just because she's overweight doesn't make her any less of a woman or any less desirable. There are lots of women who are plenty sexy without having to look anorexic. Between being born with extra fat cells, putting on a few pounds after giving birth to babies, and binge eating after being rejected by guys who feel exactly as you do—" "Relax. Calm down. You'd think you were overweight in the way you are defending overweight women. It's not that at all. My sister is a full fledge lesbian. She'd kill any man who forced her to have sex with them." "I'm sorry," she said laughing. "I did go off the deep end a bit. It's just that my sister is overweight and I'm well aware of her struggles. Her husband left her for a skinny bimbo and now she's dealing with depression, rejection, and low self-esteem." "We all have our crosses to bear. I'll tell you about my brother, sometime," he said with a laugh. "Maybe, I can get him together with your sister.. Maybe, not," he said from the sour look that he received from Kathy. "Well," she said returning to character, "I can be a woman who you kidnapped and are holding hostage while waiting for her husband to pay your ransom demands." She struggled against her ties pretending she was his prisoner.. "Help! Help! Someone please help me. I've been kidnapped." "I like the voice. It makes you being held captive so much more realistic," he said laughing and enjoying the antics of her. "After holding me captive for several hours or several days and watching me as I shower my dirty body while touching myself everywhere, you can no longer control your desires for me. Oh, no! Please stop. Help!" "I would love to take a shower with you and wash your dirty body...everywhere," he said giving her a lustful stare. "Yes, there I am naked and in the shower when you open the bathroom door and walk in holding a fresh towel that is the size of a face cloth. As soon as you see me standing in the shower naked, you are filled with wild lust and unbridled passion to experience all of me. Quickly, you get naked and you take me right there in the shower, up against the wet and slippery tile wall. You kiss me while squeezing my big tits and pulling and twisting my nipples. You're a madman intent on having your way with me. No, stop, let me go. I'll scream. I fight, but you are too strong for me. You kiss me again and again before inserting your cock in my pussy. Your hands touch me everywhere. Yet, before you can hold me back up against the wall and hump me to push yourself deeper inside of me, I escape your hold. Get away from me, you big brute, I say as I try and flee from the bathroom. Only, you grab me by my hair in the hallway and force me to bend over. You fuck me hard up the ass. Again, I escape, but you grab me and force me to my knees. You pig. You filthy pig. I won't blow you, I won't. I'll never suck your cock. You pull my hair so hard that when I open my mouth to scream, you fill it with your big, stiff cock. You hump my face hard and fuck my mouth with your fat prick. I begin to bite down on your prick but stop when you slap me hard across the face. Then, you put your big hand behind my head while fucking my mouth. You don't stop and you don't let me go until you explode your cum in my mouth and down my throat." "Certainly, that game interests me more than the incest game and I do love your way with words and graphic imagery, especially with the realistic and imagined dialogue, along with the different voices," he said with a laugh. "Only, aside from robbing rich people of their money and jewels, I'm not one to take advantage of a sexual situation. I'm not into rape and/or non-consensual sex. I'm more the one who would untie the woman and release her." "See? You are an honorable thief," she said with a laugh. "I know; I can be someone you happen upon who is tied to a tree with a gag in her mouth. You see me from a distance are realize that there is no one around. You decide to allow your sexual lust to get the better of you before you untie me and let me go. Help! Help! Someone please help me. Thank you, God. Please, can you untie me? You can barely understand what I'm saying. Only, you don't have to understand what I'm saying being that you see me tied to a tree. While I still have a gag in my mouth and can't protest, you touch me everywhere before removing my clothes and stripping me naked. Then, once I am naked, once I am totally vulnerable, you remove the gag from my mouth.. Wait! What are you doing? How dare you touch me like that, you animal? I'll report you to the— Yet, before I can scream, you fill my mouth with your cock and force me to blow you. You tell me that if I don't get you off, if I don't allow you to cum in my mouth and if I don't swallow all that you shoot in my mouth, you'll leave me there tied to the tree for the wild animals to eat me. Then, I hear a coyote howling in the background. Ooooo! Ooooo! I readily accept your cock in my mouth and begin sucking you while twirling my tongue around the head of your cock. I give you the best blowjob you ever had in your life. You shoot a huge load of warm, oozy cum that drips from my lip, down my chin, and on my breasts." "Well, that's a possibility," he said sitting at the edge of the bed down by her feet. From where he was sitting, he could clearly see the markings of her camel toe though her panty. This time, he wasn't looking away. This time he wasn't acting embarrassed. This time, he was looking between her legs while fondling her leg. "Just a possibility?" "Only, again, that'd be another situation that I'm afraid I wouldn't take advantage of. I'd be thinking what if it was one of my relatives tied up like that, my sister, my mother, my aunt, my cousin or my sister-in-law. Certainly, I'd hope that the man who came upon them would be a gentleman and not touch them inappropriately and force themselves upon them. I would hope that he wouldn't take advantage of them sexually." "Gees, you're no fun." "Oh, but I can be fun if we can create the right game to play. I do like playing games and if we can find a game that titillates my interest enough to want me to play it with you, then this could be fun." He looked at her and smiled a sexy grin. "Actually, I don't need the encouragement of any sexual fantasy game to want to make love to you.. You are so sexy and so very beautiful. I already want to make love to you.." "Unfortunately, I'm sorry, but I require the sexual fantasy of a game to get me excited," she said with a teasing laugh. "I need a good game to put me in the mood. Playing the character of someone else makes me want to do dirty and nasty things that I wouldn't ordinarily do and would never do in my role as a faithful wife and a dutiful mother." He put a hand to her ankle and caressed her leg from her ankle to her calf and back down again while staring between her legs. "You have very nice legs. They are very shapely." "Thank you. I play a lot of tennis." "I like touching you," he said moving his hand to her firm thigh. "I like being touched by you," she said wiggling her ass on the bed to adjust her position that gave him even more of a view of her panty. "So, do you have more games in mind?" "I have lots more games in mind. We can play a game of bondage and discipline." She pulled at her wrist ties. "You already have the bondage part down pat," she said with a laugh. "You can discipline me for being a bad girl, a very bad girl. You can pull down my panty and spank my ass until it is red raw. Then, you can force me to have sex with you." "Okay, that sounds like fun. How does that game work?" "Well, as I said, it begins with me being tied up, which I already am. Then, you strip off my clothes and get me naked. Once I'm tied, naked, and vulnerable, you slap my ass and force me to have sex with you. Then, when I refuse to blow you, you slap my face, but not too hard, before pulling me by my hair and forcing me to suck your cock. You're rough with me, but not too rough. You make me know that you mean business. You make me understand that you are the boss and that you are going to take whatever you want from me or else you'll slap me and you'll hurt me." "I bet you like that game. That game sounds like it's your personal favorite and the one you hope I'll play." He smiled. "Am I correct?" "I must admit to having played that game more than a few times," she said laughing, "and with more than a few men." "How many are more than a few men?" "How many houses have you burglarized?" "Hundreds," he said without hesitation. "Hundreds," she said without hesitation. "We are two peas in a pod, you and me," he said. "Yes, it sounds like we are made for one another," she said. "You are a very beautiful woman, Princess." He smiled. "Princess Kathy. I like that. Is it Kathleen or Kathryn? "Thank you," she said blushing. "It's Kathryn," she smiled. "I like that so much better than Kathy. Kathy sounds too much like a little girl's name, whereas Kathryn sounds more like the name of a refined woman, as you certainly are. May I call you Kathryn or would you prefer Princess?" "Well, so long as we are in the fantasy mode, I prefer Princess. I told you that my Dad used to call my Princess and it gives me warm memories of my Dad when you call me that. No one has ever called me that, only my Dad." "Okay, Princess...Kathryn." "I know; what if we were the only survivors in a plane crash and we were stranded high up on a Californian mountaintop. Because of my fever, you had to tie me down so that I wouldn't hurt myself. Then, as I was regaining consciousness, you had to strip me naked to check me everywhere, and I mean everywhere, for injuries to determine why I had such a high fever. I was hot, so very hot, and you had to touch my naked body everywhere to find why I was burning up with fever. Then, once I was naked and the fever started to dissipate, and once you saw my naked body, you were unable to control your lust for me. No! Please! Don't! Unhand me, you big brute.. Let me go! You were hungry for me. You forced me down on the ground. I tried to fight you, but you were too strong for me and you forced yourself on me. You made me do every dirty and nasty thing that you imagined." "You have a very creative and vivid imagination. I especially like it when you do the dialogue with the different voices," he said chuckling. "I like that about you and I do like that game," he said with a laugh. "That game does interest me more than you realize. Only, instead of being in a plane crash, what if we are lost at sea?" "Okay, that sounds like fun, too. Titanic was my very favorite movie," she said laughing, "Although I wouldn't want to be lost in the North Atlantic." She feigned a shiver and a shudder. "That water is too cold and I wouldn't want to be eaten by an orca." "Yes, I agree. No icebergs and no killer whales. We are lost at sea somewhere more tropical and someplace where there are only vegetarian sharks. Matter of fact, there are no sharks just friendly manatees and playful dolphins. We somehow make our way to shore by clinging to the debris from the ship. Now, we are stranded on a deserted island that has tall palm trees that gently sway with the cool breeze and that are filled with plumb coconuts. The sandy beach is as white and as pristine as the clouds in the sky and as undisturbed as it was before there was life on the planet. It is a beautiful place, the most beautiful place on Earth." "It sounds idyllic. Alas, if only there was such a place." "Ah, but there are. There are many such places spread throughout the South Pacific Ocean." "There are?" "Yes, there are wonderful islands that are uninhabited and charted only for purposes of navigation, but have never been inhabited by man or by woman for that matter." "For someone who never plays sexual games and who doesn't have fantasies, you have come up with a winner. This is fun. You are good at this game. Tell me more. I like this game and am more than ready and willing to play it." "It's a tropical paradise with plenty of fresh fruit that grows wild to eat. There is an unlimited supply of fish to catch and an abundance of crab that search the sandy beach for food. After exploring the island, we find a pool of fresh, cool water with a huge waterfall. We go for a jump from a rocky ridge and go for a refreshing swim naked. Now, we have plenty of fresh water to drink. We have fortunately found an island that has everything that we need to live happily for ever after. Just you and just me," he said unbuttoning her blouse one button at a time and looking to see what each unbuttoned button revealed before unbuttoning the next button. As he was in his work as a burglar, as if he was unlocking the combination to a safe with his skillful fingers, he was slow and methodical in undressing her. Kathy would have preferred he'd be fast and rough. Still, what he was doing was certainly turning her on enough that she did not want him to stop. She was already wet. Definitely, she wanted him to continued, especially if it meant that he'd give her a sexual fantasy that she'd remember and also, and more importantly, give her back her pearls. "Yes, we have everything except for shopping malls, electricity, my hair dryer, the Internet, my Mercedes, and my cell phone," she said laughing. "Don't ruin my fantasy, Princess," he said laughing while flaying her blouse open, as he would flinging open the door to a safe. He stared at her bra covered breasts before reaching his hand up to touch them. He felt her breast through her bra, first one and then the other. "You have beautiful breasts.." "Thank you," she said while her nipples made an immediate impression through the thin material of her lacy, silk bra. "The change from riches to rags will do you good, Princess." "I like it when you call me princess. You make me feel like one. Yes, I'll be the princess of your fantasy island. I'll be your princess for ever and ever." "Back to our sexual fantasy, we are doomed to spend the rest of our lives on this island alone. Yes, I like this game. You are the rich bitch, the spoiled princess, and I am your hired help who seduces you." "Oh, I like this game even better. I really like this game. This game could be my favorite all time game. This game reminds me of that movie, Swept Away. Madonna and her husband director, Guy Ritchie, made it, but it was terrible. All she did was to pose and show off her buff body." "The original movie, an Italian made movie, was much better. It was so much more erotic. The actors did a realistic job in playing their roles. It was very hot." "Yes, I saw that, too. It was erotic the way they developed the characters on board the yacht and then turned and twisted them around where once they were stuck together on the island. He was the hired help, subservient to her in every way, yet, once they were swept away; he was the one who could take care of everything she needed to survivor." She looked at him with a look she had never given any man. "Then, she fell in love with him. Are you my hero? Will I fall madly in love with you?" In the next chapter Kathy wonders about her fake diamond.
Chapter 8
"I like it when you call me princess. You make me feel like one and I like savoring the thought of being the princess of your fantasy island. I'll be your princess forever and ever," she said giving him a smile that would make anyone want her as his princess.
"Back to our sexual fantasy," he said smiling with her. "We are doomed to spend the rest of our lives on this little island alone," he said repeating his smile only more widely this time. "Yes, I like this game," he said appearing satisfied that she finally came up with a game that he could play. "I could live with you as my only woman for the rest of my life." "Thank you," she said. "I'm glad you like this game," she said with a sexy smile, "because I do, too," she said giving him a sexy look. "You make it sound like you've played this game before. You make it sound like this is your real fantasy." "This is a game and the perfect game that I can play with you," he said with a lustful stare. "You are the rich bitch, the spoiled princess, and I am your hired hand. You treat me with disrespect and distain. I am beneath you, but once on the island, I am more than your equal, I am your superior and as it turns out, I am your savior. Because of my survival skills of being able to start a fire, build a shelter, find food, and catch fish, you look up to me and depend on me to sustain your miserable and undeserving life." "Do you slap me around a bit?" "No." "Do you rip off my clothes?" "No." "Do you tie me to a tree and have your way with me?" "No, Princess. Not in this game. This is my game. Now, just listen and be quiet," he said chuckling at her continual interruptions. "Okay, I'll be quiet," she said returning his laugh and sexy stare. "Now, instead of looking down on me and instead of giving me your disdain, you give me your friendship and cooperation because you need me to take care of you.. Now, you want me and instead of me trying to seduce you, you willingly offer me sex for food, comfort, and shelter. Only, now, I am the one who resists you." "Oh, I like this game even better than you hitting me and tying me to a tree. I really like this game, I do. This game could be my favorite all time game. I could play this game every day," she said smiling at him seductively. "This game reminds me of that movie, Swept Away. Madonna and her husband director, Guy Ritchie, made it, but it was terrible. All she did throughout the entire movie was to pose and show off her buff body. She is a terrible actress." "The original movie, an Italian made movie, by the same name, was much better," he said. "It was so much more erotic. The actors did a realistic job in playing their roles. There was more tension and hate between the two. It was hot, very hot, especially in the end when they fall in love with one another." "Yes, I saw the original movie, too," she said. "It was erotic the way they developed the characters on board the yacht. Then, when they turned and twisted them around after a storm destroyed their boat, it was erotic fun to watch when they reversed their roles, once they were lost at sea and stuck together on the deserted island. It was such a strange fate of events that brought them together when they were so far apart on everything in life." "You could say that about us, don't you think, Princess? Here we are two people from the opposite sides of the tracks and at the far end of the spectrum of life only to come together in your bedroom while you are tied to the bed and nearly naked," he said staring at her body. "Normally, had we met out in public, you'd take the lead and put me in my place. Alas, with you tied to the bed, I am in control," he said with a laugh. "Another man would take advantage of this situation and of you, but I won't. I'm content just to stand here and admire you and to stay with you for a while longer." "Yes, you could say that about us, too. We are very different," she said looking at him without talking for a while. Her mind flashed from the movie to her present situation. He was exciting her with his imagination. She liked how he thought. She liked it when he told her to be quiet and just to listen. "I agree with you that we have lived very different lives and just as in real life now, in the movie, you could feel the hatred they had for one another," she said. "I felt that for you when you stole my pearls. If I had a gun, I would have shot you, I think, to save my precious pearls." "There's more to life than pearls, Princess." "Yes, of course, I agree, they are just pearls. Just like the shell of a mollusk, they are just calcium carbonate in minute crystalline form, which has been deposited in concentric layers. Yet their story in Swept Away was a political story, the communist/socialist poor man against the imperialistic rich bitch. He was the hired help, subservient to her in every way, yet, once they were swept away; he was the one who could take care of everything she needed to survive. He was the one who was at the top of the chain instead of at the bottom. He was the one that she depended upon to save her." "Is that how you see yourself as a rich, bitch and at the top of the chain?" "I may be rich, but I'm not anyone's bitch, I can assure you that. And yes, able to afford to go anywhere, do anything, and buy everything at any time, I would determine that to be top of the chain. Wouldn't you? Wealth after all is time." "How do you mean?" "The more wealth you have, the more you can afford to hire people to take care of those things that you don't want to do and the more time you have for yourself and for the those things that you want to do." "Ah, yes, money does allow you to look at everything differently, I guess," he said. "Everything and everyone has a price in this world, even freedom, especially freedom, and freedom is time. Time is money. Time cost money," she said suddenly looking saddened with her words. "Yes, I agree with you. Everyone has a price, Princess," he said with a smile. "Your price was those pearls. I imagine even though they are very expensive and are very special to you; the monetary value is not why they mean so much to you. I imagined you sacrificed much more than they are worth." She looked away from him, but it was obvious that what he said was getting to her. It was as if he could read her thoughts. She bit her lip before she spoke again. "I liked it in the movie when they kissed and made love. Only, it was after he forced himself upon her and after she rejected him. That scene was the height of the tension in the movie, I thought. Then, after spending time on the island, she wanted him and wanted to be with him. Only, now, he rejected her and that was a nice twist." "How so?" "Think about it. What man alone on a deserted island with a beautiful woman would reject her? It takes a special man to have that kind of will power." "Am I such a man?" "Yes, I think you are, otherwise, you would have had your way with me already and then you would have left with my pearls." "I see. So, you don't think that I'll have my way with you?" "Oh, I think you will." "And you don't think that I'll leave with your pearls." "I don't know," she said staring at him before answering more. "I hope you won't." The tension in the movie, much like the tension in this room, was well done going back and forth between the characters' wants, needs, and desires. Then, when they finally came together, you could tell that they were in love. It was all so romantic and the tension is what maintained my interest then as now." "I think it was a very sensually erotic movie and very well done. The location budget and costume budget for that movie must have been nil, though," he said with a laugh.. "Yeah, then in the end it was so romantic when you thought that they would return to the way that they had lived their lives only to reach out for one another and continue their love affair. She had fallen in love with him and he had fallen in love with her." She closed her eyes and swooned.. "It was so romantic." "Truly it was as romantic as it was erotic," he said staring at her. She looked at him with a look she had never given any man. In the past with her it had always been about sex. Now, it was more than that. Now, it was more about love, love that she never knew she could have. Was this it? Was this what she was feeling? How do you know if you've never felt love before? Suddenly, instead of him just being a burglar, he had become her suitor, her confidant, and her friend. As a new game player of yet one more of her sexual games, so she thought, he'd soon become her lover, so she hoped. Only, this time, she was more excited to play a game with him than she had been excited to play a game with anyone else before. This seemed more than just a game and she was right to feel that way because, this time, unbeknownst to the both of them yet, this game wasn't a game, but it was real life and this was the real thing. "Is this kismet that you are here with me now," she said with a light heartedness to her spirit created by her comfortableness with him, "that you are robbing my house with me helplessly tied to the bed?" She was unguarded now and vulnerable, which is why, perhaps, he was able to read her so easily. Feebly she feigned at pulling against her ties again. "Are you my hero? Will you save me from myself? Will I fall madly in love with you? Will we escape to our own deserted island and live out our life in bliss? Will our fantasy become reality?" She had no idea how right she was. Perhaps, subconsciously she already knew. Perhaps, he would be her hero. Perhaps, this dark knight would become her handsome prince, only instead of riding in on a white horse; he rode in on a white, rented golf cart. She wondered if she could see living happily ever after with him? In the next chapter Kathy and the burglar make a connection.
Chapter 9
She looked at him with a look she had never given any man. In the past with her it had always been about sex. Now, it was more than that. Now, it was more about love, love that she never knew she could have. Was this it? Was this what she was feeling? How do you know it's love if you've never felt love before?
Suddenly, instead of him just being a burglar, he had become her suitor, her confidant, and her friend. As a new game player of yet one more of her sexual games, so she thought, he'd soon become her lover, so she hoped. Only, this time, she was more excited to play a game with him than she had been excited to play a game with anyone else before. This seemed more than just a game and she was right to feel that way because, this time, unbeknownst to the both of them yet, this game wasn't a game, but it was real life and this was the real thing. "Is this kismet that you are here with me now," she said with a light heartedness to her spirit created by her comfortableness with him, "that you are robbing my house with me helplessly tied to the bed?" She was unguarded now and vulnerable, which is why, perhaps, he was able to read her so easily. Feebly she feigned at pulling against her ties again. "Are you my hero? Will you save me from myself? Will I fall madly in love with you? Will we escape to our own deserted island and live out our life in bliss? Will our fantasy become reality?" She had no idea how right she was. Perhaps, subconsciously she already knew. Perhaps, he would be her hero. Perhaps, this dark knight would become her handsome prince, only instead of riding in on a white horse; he rode in on a white, rented golf cart. She wondered if she could see living happily ever after with him? He climbed on the bed and moved between her legs. Poised on his hands and knees above her, he lowered his lips to meet hers. He kissed her softly, but without prolonging the kiss and probing her mouth with his tongue. Expecting more passion, she returned his kiss but when she did, teasingly, he pulled away. Immediately, his teasing heightened her desire for him. It excited her that he controlled her and had control over her. Unlike most men who would have taken advantage of her being tied to the bed and who already would have stuck their cocks in her mouth and left her there tied to the bed once they exploded their lust for her in her mouth, it excited her that he teased her passion in such a way that made her want him even more. With his gentle sensuality, he heightened her sexuality to new and higher levels than she had never experienced before. Just as she thought he was going to deliver his passionate kiss, again and again he repeated the process of pulling away from her lips, teasing her lips with his and resisting her, until she couldn't take it anymore. "You may be tied to the bed," he laughed, "but you are hardly helpless, Princess." He looked at her through soulful eyes. "You are an extraordinarily beautiful woman and the first woman that when kissing you, I am unable to close my eyes. I can't help but stare at you. I can't take my eyes away from you for even a second." "Well," she laughed, "maybe, if you kissed me longer, maybe if you surrendered your tongue to me, then I could convince you to close your eyes with my passion for you," she said. "Still, I love it when you tease me. You arouse me like I have never been aroused before." "You may be right, but I can't help but wonder," he said making eye contact with her. "Yes...tell me...what is it that you wonder?" "I wonder if your passion is for me or if it is for any man who has tied you to the bed and partially stripped you naked in the way that I have," he said responding in the way of a typical bachelor who has been alone all of his life. "I see. So, you think that I'd surrender myself to any man who ties me to my bed, strips me partially naked, and takes control of me." "I don't know. Would you? Would the act of physically being controlled excite you enough or would it depend upon who was tying you to the bed and stripping you naked?" She looked at him with wondering eyes. "Do you think that I'm a slut?" He looked at her with a face full of understanding. "I don't know. Are you?" Trying to read him, trying to determine if he was sincere or just toying with her, she gave him a long look. He wasn't like any man she had been attracted to before. The ones who captured her interest were younger, taller, and more symmetrically athletic looking, much like the tennis pro and the golfing instructor at the club. He was neither of those. Yet, there was something so very intriguing about him and something that made her want to know more about him. "I was before and haven't been that for a long time, but with you it's different." "Different how?" "Hmm, well you are not an unattractive man," she said with a laugh. "Thank you, I think. I'll take that as a compliment," he said with a smile.. "By the way, flattery will get you everywhere with me," he said with a laugh. "I do find the fact that you robbed my house and tied me to my bed sexually exciting. If you haven't noticed, I enjoy being submissive, especially when bound and helpless," she said feebly straining against her restraints again. "Yes, I can see that you enjoy being tied, but as I said before, I fear, you are hardly helpless," he said with a laugh. "I dare say with you tied up, no longer do you enjoy an unfair advantage but, now, we are equal." "Do you tie all your women up or just the ones who surprise you during your burglary?" "Actually, you are the first woman I have ever tied to the bed and I must say that it was a truly enjoyably and erotic experience." "How so?" "Well, apart from the obvious, being able to enjoy voyeuristic views up your skirt and down your blouse, there is the fact that most women would be helpless in this scenario." "Oh, but I am helpless. Help, someone help me. I'm tied to the bed and the big, bad robber is stripping me naked. Help, help," she said with a laugh and with a long look before speaking again. "Only, I perceive that there is more to you than that." "How so?" "You are much more than a burglar. That is obvious to me. You are a man that I'd like to know more about, especially if the circumstances were a bit different. Only, I'm afraid had I not met you like this, had you not forced me to give you my undivided attention," she said pulling at her restraints and chuckling, "I may not have given you a second glance." "Why is that, Princess?" "Well, on the outside, you are fairly ordinary. You look much like any of the other retired golfer who hit little white balls around the golf course grass. Yet, I can see that you are nothing like any of them." "And you know them well enough to make a fair assessment?" "Oh, yeah. I've been around them, the same stereotypical types, for two and a half decades. I know them better than they know themselves. Women are especially astute when it comes to knowing what a man is all about." "And your husband? What is he about?" "That's too easy of a question. My husband, by the job that he has, as an investment banker, by the house that he owns, a mansion on the golf course of a gated community, by the people he associates himself with, other rich, white men, by the woman he married, younger and beautiful, and by the car that he drives, a Bentley, is all about money, power, and influence." "And you Princess, what are you about?" "I was all about sex in my younger days. I couldn't get enough of it. It was my delicious diversion so that whenever I was with a man, I didn't have to spend time alone with my bad self. I was much like a guy in that regard. Then, once I was married, I was much like any other housewife. I was about my children, my family, and my friends." "And now? What are you about now?" "Now, I'm lost. My children are grown and gone. My husband is having a long-term affair with his secretary that he told me he fired and but didn't. She's a woman younger and more beautiful than me. I'm alone and lonely and...I'm...just tired of living a lie that has become my life." "And how are you lying to yourself?" "I'm lying that all this lavish lifestyle makes me happy when in fact, it makes me bored, so bored, in fact, that I'd rather be here with you tied to my bed than to be shopping with my friends in New York City." "Well, since I've forced you to give me your undivided attention by tying you up, I'm afraid, allow me to give you my assessment of how I perceive you." "That's only fair, as I've given you my assessment of what I think of you." "You fascinate me. I don't believe I've ever met anyone quite like you and in my business I meet a lot of people." "That's odd." "What's odd, Princess?" "I would think that in your line of work you'd meet very few people, as in the homes you burglarize either the people would be sleeping or not at home." "Very true, however, for me to burglarize a home, I study the person who owns it. I know the person quite well before I even enter their home. Quite like how a woman knows a man, I know my victim better than they know themselves, which is why I've never been caught, never been arrested, and never been charged with a crime even. I've never received so much as a speeding ticket." "For someone who has such an exciting profession, you live a boring life." "Careful is more the word, Princess. I live a very careful life." "So, you still haven't told me how I'm different from the other woman. You still haven't told me what makes me so special." "As I said, in my life and in my occupation, I've encountered many women like you, and as you would me, I've summed them up and passed them by without giving them a second glance. Yet, it is obvious that you are different than the norm. You are so much more now than they could ever be." "Well, thank you. You are very kind. And, as it does with you, flattery will get you everywhere with me, too. He looked at her without speaking. "Shall I continue?" In the next chapter the burglar knows Kathy all too well.
Chapter 10
The burglar knows Kathy all too well. Only, what happens when the game is no longer a game?
* "So, you still haven't told me how I'm different from the other women who live here in our closed and exclusive community of rich bitches. You still haven't told me what makes me so special and why you are so attracted to me." "You mean, besides the point that you are tied to your bed and partially naked?" "Yes," she said with a laugh. "Try and look beyond that." "As I said, in my life and in my occupation, I've encountered many women like you, and as you would me, I've summed them up and passed them by without even giving them a second glance. Yet, it is obvious that you are different from them and are different from the norm. You are not like them. You are so much more now than they could ever hope to be." "Well, thank you. You are very kind. And, as it does with you, flattery will get you everywhere with me, too. He looked at her without speaking. "Shall I continue?" "Sure, why not? I'm tied up at the present moment and not doing anything else," she said lightly pulling at her wrist ties. "You have my complete and undivided attention." "It is no wonder you are tired. Without the help and without the support of a partner, that is, once removing the only support that he gives you, the financial support received from your rich husband, you've been shouldering this entire relationship alone and by yourself and without the help of your husband throughout your entire marriage. Yet, that's typical of all women and, more especially, of women in your close circle of rich friends.." "You can say that about most marriages," she said shouldering the hurt from never having had the emotional support of her husband. "Yes, but most marriages don't have a husband who makes an embarrassing amount of money. Most marriages struggle financially. The financial struggle sometimes is half the fun of it. As it sometimes distances them, often times, the financial struggle brings a couple closer together with both shouldering the burden." "Yes, money doesn't always make you happy. Only, I wouldn't want to live life without it." "I dare say that the financial struggle sometimes creates the most memories, good and bad, and not having enough money, doing without and making do with what you have, sometimes brings out the best in characters, which is why so many people love to watch It's A Wonderful Life at Christmas with Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed." "I love that movie," she said with a swoon. Only, I heard a rumor that movie was based on another movie, a more X-rated and explicit movie called, She's A Sexual Wife." "Really. Well, that would be an interesting movie to see." "I haven't seen the actual movie, but I read a story by a brilliantly modest writer, Bostonfictionwriter about the circumstances of how the movie, It's A Wonderful Life came to be." "Where'd you read that?" "hotstory.com" "You read hotstory.com?" "Sometimes, when I'm alone and my husband is traveling." "I do, too, when I'm in the mood," he said looking a bit uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," she said with a blush. "I've interrupted you, again." "Unlike the marriages of normal people, people who earn much less money than your husband, you don't have any financial struggles in your marriage and therefore have few memories relating to having to do without. Unfortunately, all of the marriages here are like that. Anyone who can afford the price of admission to buy a house here and to join this exclusive country club, doesn't know what it's like to have to tighten your belt and do without. I dare say that most marriages have different problems than what you wealthy people experience." "For a confirmed bachelor, you are bold in your outspokenness about marriages and seem to know an awful lot about what it's like to be married." "Well, maybe being a lifelong bachelor has made me an expert of all the reasons not to marry. Besides," he said with a laugh, "all my friends and family are either married or divorced." "I'm sorry. I did it again. I interrupted you. Please continue with your original thought. I'm curious about how you see me as different from the others." "Well, for one, your husband earns more money than do the others who are fortunate enough to live here by a wide margin. After you discovered his affair from the evidence he left in his sock drawer and after the financial agreement that he gave you not to divorce him, he pays you enough money to quell whatever insecurities you have by filling your time with unlimited shopping excursions." "Is there anything that you don't know about me?" "We belong to the same country club, don't forget, Princess. I rub elbows with the same people over drinks at the bar and am privy to the same conversations during a round of golf." "Yes, you said that already, didn't you?" "As he does with everything else in his life, he's wealthy enough to pay off whatever failures he has done to the marriage, just as he can in business. You and he will continue like that, until one becomes so bored, so tired, so disinterested, and so dissatisfied and wants something more. Only, time is running out for you. You're not as young and vibrant as you once were." "Age doesn't play favorites," she said with a small smile. He stopped talking for a moment to look at her. She was so very beautiful and to see her there like that, helpless and vulnerable and exposed while tied to the bed was more than erotic. It bordered on sexual fantasy. "I can see that happening in your marriage, only, instead of you being blindsided by your husband with his little tart secretary, I perceive you packing up and leaving him one day, a day that he needs you the most at his side. Only, because he was never there for you, you won't give it a second thought to walk out on him. When he needs you the most, you won't be there for him." "Well, I'd love to say you are wrong," she said looking at him, "but you are right." "That's what makes you different than all the other wives here. They would never do that. They'd suffer through whatever it was their husband was experiencing content in the fact that they are rich and are able to soothe their dissatisfaction with the money of their rich husbands, later, once they are through their personal ordeal. Only, there is more to you than money." "I think I was happier without money," she said softly, as if saying it to herself. "You want something that money can't buy." "Well, if you know me so well," she said with a chuckle. "What is it that I want that money can't buy?" "That's easy, Princess," he said giving her a smug smile. If he smoked and if he had a cigarette, he would have taken a long pensive drag and blown out a cloud of blue smoke before answering her. "You want love." First she looked at him with surprise by his insightfulness, and then she looked at him, as if she had been wounded by his words. "I don't think I like this game," she said trying to adjust her position to a more comfortable one, but unable to move very much with her ties. "I don't want to play it anymore. Let's play a different game." Only, he wouldn't stop playing his game. He was good at it. He was beating her. He was the champion of this game. "Yes, sure, on the outside you are exceedingly beautiful, but you are more than that on the inside. You aren't like the other bored and boring housewives, if you want to stretch to call them that, those who languish here hidden away within their mansions and who only leave it for shopping, tennis, and/or golfing." "Do you have a thing about and an aversion against housewives?" "No, not at all. Housewives are as American as apple pie. I loved Donna Reed, Harriet Nelson, and June Cleaver. My mother was a housewife. Only, to me, a housewife doesn't have servants. Yet, you kid yourself if you think you are just a mere housewife. You are more the madam of the household than you are a lowly housewife." "I see. Do you hold my lack of cleaning and cooking skills against me, then?" "Why bother with drudgery, Princess," he said waving a hand of extravagance in the air, "when you can afford to pay someone else to do it? Life is too short to be tied down to the kitchen. I'd rather be out and about than mowing my lawn." "Yes, especially when I can be tied down to the bed," she said with a laugh. "Seriously though, I'm serious when I say that you are so much more than all of that and all of this." "We finally agree on something. There are more important things to do than dusting and vacuuming." "Well said from someone who actually has a brain in her head and, I dare say, from someone who has never dusted or vacuumed in her life." He gave her another long look. "You want more than this, don't you? You are as complex as you are exciting and I like that about you. You challenge me, which is why I'm drawn to you and which is why I'm still here chatting with you while risking arrest." He looked at her with a look that he had never given another woman. "I'm mesmerized by you." "You are the first who sees more than my pretty face and my hot body. You are the first man who has taken the time to look past my tits and my ass." "Sorry, did you say something," he said staring at her tits." "Very funny, ha, ha." "Should I continue or should I stop?" In the next chapter the game ends and life begins.
Chapter 11
"Do you have a thing about and an aversion against housewives?"
"No, not at all. Housewives are as American as apple pie. I loved Donna Reed, Harriet Nelson, and June Cleaver. My mother was a housewife. Only, to me, a housewife doesn't have servants. Yet, you kid yourself if you think you are just a mere housewife. You are more the madam of the household than you are a lowly housewife." "I see. Do you hold my lack of cleaning and cooking skills against me, then?" "Why bother with drudgery, Princess," he said waving a hand of extravagance in the air, "when you can afford to pay someone else to do it? Life is too short to be tied down to the kitchen. I'd rather be out and about than mowing my lawn." "Yes, especially when I can be tied down to the bed," she said with a laugh. "Seriously though, I'm serious when I say that you are so much more than all of that and all of this." "We finally agree on something. There are more important things to do than dusting and vacuuming." "Well said from someone who actually has a brain in her head and, I dare say, from someone who has never dusted or vacuumed in her life." He gave her another long look. "You want more than this, don't you? You are as complex as you are exciting and I like that about you. You challenge me, which is why I'm drawn to you and which is why I'm still here chatting with you while risking arrest." He looked at her with a look that he had never given another woman. "I'm mesmerized by you." "You are the first who sees more than my pretty face and my hot body. You are the first man who has taken the time to look past my tits and my ass." "Sorry, did you say something," he said staring at her tits." "Very funny, ha, ha." "Should I continue or should I stop?" "Well, you've gone this far, you may as well stick your other foot in your mouth, too." "Only, you're trapped. Trapped in what some may fantasize as a lavish life and their perfect paradise, only all of this has been your prison. I dare say this lifestyle is slowly killing you. You are living the shell of the life of the fun loving woman you once were. You want to fly, you need to fly away, but your wings have been clipped and you are trapped here to languish alone without the love and without the support of a faithful husband. You are alone and lonely in this façade of a marriage." "I think that's quite enough. I'm unsure if I want to hear anymore of—" "As a professional burglar," he said pocketing his hands. "I see snippets into people's lives and I can see by your husband's collection of materialism that he regards money more than he even regards his most valuable possession...you." "How dare you? You don't even know my husband." Undeterred in her protest, he continued. "Moreover, I see that you so are miserable and are in so desperate need of a kindred spirit, a lover, a friend, and a soul mate that you allow me, a total stranger and a lifetime criminal at that, to tie you up on the hope and in the chance that I will offer you more of what you truly want and need. You are desperate, so desperate for love and for attention that you're pathetic in your behavior by allowing those less than you to disrespect you, as you have done with the husbands of your friends." "How can you know so much about me when I've never met you?" "Oh, I know you. I've been watching you. I know all my victims before I rob them of their possessions. Besides, people talk. All that I have to do is to listen." "They talk about me?" "Yes." "You mean, just the men, of course?" "No, it's both men and women who have much to say about you." "What do they say?" "The men lust over your beauty. They talk endlessly what they'd do to your body." "Well, I don't think I want to hear any more of that. What about the women? What do they say about me?" "The women, of course, are envious of you. Whereas, the men talk about wanting you, the women talk about despising you because their men want you. " "I see," she said giving him an analytical look. "What are you a psychiatrist? You've psychoanalyzed me more than my therapist." Suddenly, their playfulness turned sour. She was angry that she was so transparent to this stranger and to this man who had come into her house and into her life. "I can see you're angry with me," he said making eye contact with her. "How dare you say those things about me? You don't even now me. How could you possibly know who I am? You don't know what I've had to bear in this marriage. How could you? You don't know what it's like to live—" "I've upset you, Princess, and I'm sorry. What I meant to say was—" "Stop, just please stop. Don't say any more, not another word. I won't listen to whatever it is you say. You are morbidly depressing me. Just fuck me and go....like all the rest," she said spreading her legs wider while resigning herself to being raped by him. "Or, if you prefer, as most men do, just stick your cock in my mouth, put a hand behind my head, and force me to blow you until you explode away your lust for me in my mouth and down my throat," she said opening her mouth and licking her lips with her tongue. "Only, please, I beg you...leave my pearls," she said with tears running down her cheeks.. "They mean more to me than you know and more than you ever could understand. Please don't take my pearls." He looked at her and searched her eyes with his before standing up from the bed. He walked over to where he had placed his valise on the floor by the doorway in readiness to flee. He reached inside and pulled out her pearls. He rolled a pearl between his fingers while looking at them and felt the considerable weight of them in his hand. He looked at her pearls, as if wondering why they were so valuable to her and why she would willingly give her body to him for their safe return. In all the years he had burglarized homes and with all the jewels he had stolen, not once did he feel any such regard for the possessions that he stole. Never had he felt an attraction for any jewel in the way she loved these pearls. He turned to her and looked at her. She looked so sad. How could something so beautiful look so broken? "I can only imagine what you've sacrificed to earn these pearls, Princess. They are but a mere token of what you gave up to get them, no doubt. Yes, you've sacrificed much, I bet. No doubt, you've sacrificed your life and your freedom. You view these pearls as your reward and as would a kid spend all his coins hoping to win the golden gumball and to cash that in for a prize, I can see that mere money cannot replace these pearls that you regard so much. Here," he said laying them on her stomach. "I can't take them from you. I don't want them. You may have them. Certainly, they mean more to you than to me." She started crying until her crying turned to sobbing. "Please untie me. Please," she said pulling hard against her ties. He reached over and untied her. She lifted herself up to a position with her knees bent and her arms draped around her legs. She rested her forehead on her knees while sobbing. When he sat on the bed to comfort her, she threw her arms around him. When she did that, when she was free to touch him, she saw that she melted him with her touch and he returned her embrace. It was then that they kissed. Finally, they kissed and it was a French kiss with probing tongues and hands that explored one another's bodies. This time it was a real kiss, a long kiss, and a passionate kiss. Her hands were all over him as much as his hands were all over her. Quickly they stripped one another and came together in a tight embrace. She was ready for him. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted any other man in her life. He touched her deeper and where no man has ever touched her before. He read who she was. He knew her. Finally, he was someone who got her. He moved her. Kissing and kissing her, he explored her breasts and fingered her nipples before reaching down to feel her passion for him. She was so very wet and so very ready. He was so very hard and so very ready. He mounted her and when he did, she reached down and inserted him and guided him inside her. In a gasp and a hump he was deep inside of her. They moved like that, as one and in a passionate rhythm that mimicked their newfound and sudden bond for one another. It was sexual, it was magical, and it was love. Only, they didn't fuck. They made love. They made love as if it was a modern dance between a man and a woman. They made love as if it was not only their first time and but also as if it was their last time. Their expressiveness for one another fueled their passion. She rolled him over and instead of acting like the sexual animal she has always been with men in the past, she acted more graceful and her actions were more impulsive rather than rehearsed or planned. Each hump had new found meaning. Each thrust suggested something more than just sex and they came together as one and as a couple who have been having sex for years. Their orgasm tightened their embrace and they stayed like that clutching one another until their passion lessened enough for them to let go. There was no dialogue, just holding, touching, and kissing. They spoke without words. Their touches confessed their desire for one another and their looks revealed their bond and their love. There was no hiding it. Even though this had started out as a game, it had quickly flourished to love. It was as if they had practiced this dance for years only to perform it now for the first time and every move was choreographed perfectly, only this wasn't a dance, it was real. This was the real thing and the beginning of something beautiful. When they parted finally, she looked at him with love in her eyes and he returned her stare with a look he had never experienced before. He had never found that special someone, until now. Alone, but never lonely, he had never been married or committed to anyone, until now. Now, it was obvious that he didn't want to leave her. Now, it was obvious that he wanted to take her with him. Now, it was obvious that he loved her. Wild with sexual exploration and erotic passion in her youth, she had been married all of her adult life, but had never felt the way she felt now. Her life had lost its excitement and she had lost her spark to live it. With nothing new, everything had become so mundane and expected. This was something different. This feeling was something new. Never did she realize that it could be like this. With the hundreds of men she had known, she had never known love, until now. Now, she was in love "Fuck," she said pushing him away. "What? What did I do? Did I do something wrong?" "You know what you did." "Well, if it's any consolation," he said giving her a long look. Instantly, his look read her. "I feel the same way about you, too." Instinctively, he knew her thoughts and she loved that about him. Actions without words, they were so in tuned with one another. "Now what? What do we do now?" "I'd say," he said allowing a smug smile to take hold of his face, "we flee to our deserted island and our tropical paradise and live our lives in bliss." He looked at her. "I'm ready to go and I'm ready to go now. Yet, I'm afraid you may not be ready for that." He looked at her again waiting for her to answer before speaking and when she remained silent, he repeated his question. "Are you ready to leave your husband and this life behind for a new adventure with me?" "I'm ready," she said softly while giving him a look. "I'm so ready," she said louder while looking at him with a face full of determination. "You have no idea how ready I am." In the next chapter Kathy discovers why her diamond is fake.
Chapter 12
"Fuck," she said pushing him away.
"What? What did I do? Did I do something wrong?" "You know what you did," she said looking at him with those eyes. She had eyes that would melt any man and make any man do whatever she wanted. "Well, if it's any consolation," he said after giving her a long look and obviously reading her. "I feel the same way about you, too." Instinctively, he apparently knew her thoughts and she loved that about him. Actions without words, they were so in tuned with one another and that was half the battle and one of the necessary ingredients needed to start their love relationship. Only, it was funny watching them dance around love without ever saying the word. They were two confidently self-assured and intelligent people afraid of one little four letter monosyllabic word. One could understand if they were religious and the word in question was fuck instead of love. Yet, neither one was religious. You could say they were superstitious. Love, after all, is a dirty word, especially in a relationship that just started. Before you find your special someone, you believe in love at first sight. You convince yourself you would know she or he was the one immediately when you first saw them and you can't wait to tell whoever it is that you love them. Then, when you do find your special someone, you wait for one to mention the L word before you do. No one wants to say it first. No one wants to be so vulnerable and open. What if he or she doesn't feel the same way? No one wants to be rejected. Yet, it was obvious in the way that they looked at one another that they were both in love. Certainly the L word of love would come soon after the other L word of lust was satisfied and it was. "Now what? What do we do now?" "I'd say," he said allowing a smug smile to take hold of his face. "We flee to my deserted island and my tropical paradise and live out the rest of our lives in harmonic bliss." "You make it sound too easy," she said with a half smile. In all twenty-four years of her marriage, he looked at her with a look her husband had never given her. "I've been dreaming about living in a tropical paradise for years. I'm ready to go and I'm ready to go with you now," he said with a serious face. With toned, thin arms, and long, shapely thighs, she sat all scrunched up with her arms hugging her knees. Naked and in the silhouette reflection that the dimly lit bedroom created, she was a vision to behold. Few women looked as good naked, but she did. Few women possessed the confidence to reveal her naked body to a man she just met, but she did. She showed him that she was more than a beautiful body, and she was. There are always flaws that women tried to hide, but she had none. She was as close to perfection as any woman could be. "A tropical paradise sounds wonderful right about now," she said with her lips still attached to her knees and her knees muffling her words. "I could use a change. I'd like to run away...with you," she said mindlessly, as if alone and uttering what she was fantasizing before agreeing to go with him. "Yet, I'm afraid you may not be ready for that," he said matter of fact but resolutely while eying her, as if watching for any change in her for clues to reading her thoughts. When she turned to face him with her head still resting on her knees, he looked at her again while waiting for her to answer before speaking again. She was just so damn beautiful. When she remained silent, he repeated his question. "Are you ready to leave your husband and this life behind for a new adventure with me, Princess?" In the way he called her Princess, he made her feel like one. After being so ignored for so long by her husband, he made her feel special. She hungered for attention, affection, and love and here was a man who truly wanted her. Moreover, here was a man who truly understood her. No longer did she have to explain her every thought, want, and need to someone who didn't have the time or the inclination to understand her. No longer did she have to dream about her fantasy man...he was already here. As she had done so many times in the past, no longer did she have to play sexual games to get herself excited. She was already excited by the thoughts of being with him...forever. "I'm ready," she said softly while giving him a look and without moving any part of her but her lips and her eyes. "I'm so ready," she said louder and lifting her head while looking at him to show him a face full of inner strength, resolve, and determination. "You have no idea how ready I am." "We can book a flight and just go," he said. "I have plenty of money for the both of us to live out the rest of our lives in luxury." "I have money, too.. Only, where would we go?" "I bought a small island in the South Pacific." "You did? Seriously?" She gave him a look that suggested that he was too good to be true. Suddenly the thoughts of cool tropical drinks with little umbrellas, white sandy beaches, and calypso music captured her imagination and her heart. She'd wear her new bikini...and bring her pearls. "I bought the bit of land at a time when I was hitting a lot of homes and making a lot of money. Back then, it didn't cost me much to buy the island. Everyone fantasized about owning and living on a deserted island, but few realized their fantasy by acting on it. I did. Now, with so many people having so much money and so many people wanting to flee their old stressful lifestyle for their relaxed utopian dream, I'm glad I bought it when I did. It's worth so much more now, especially with you by my side," he said pausing to look at her. "With you beside me, my tropical paradise is priceless." "May my children visit me and my grandchildren when that time comes for them?" "Yes, of course, you can invite whomever you'd like to have visit, so long as they leave after a while," he said with a chuckle. "I've been waiting for someone like you all my life and there's only room for two in our little fantasy, I'm afraid." She gave a curious look to his valise on the floor by the doorway. Her brow was wrinkled and she suddenly had a pensive look on her face. Then, after a while without removing her eyes from his valise, he turned to see what it was she staring. "What is it, Princess? Is there something wrong?" "I was just wondering—" "Oh, that," he said looking to where she was staring before turning back to her to answer her unspoken question. "Don't worry, I won't take any of your things," he said with a chuckle. "Now, what's mine is yours." "That's not what I was wondering." "Sorry, then what were you wondering?" "Did you open his safe?" "His safe? Yes, of course, that's what I do. Normally, I only open the safe and leave, but in your case with your jewelry box there in plain view out on your—" "And what did you find?" "The usual stuff, money, watches, rings, assorted papers," he said while running his hand through and lifting some stuff to show her. "I found his passport, passbooks, a list of passwords and—" "Did you find any photos?" "Photos?" He looked at her with a face full of curiosity. "Yes, I wonder what else my husband was hiding other than money, jewelry, and personal papers in his safe." "I take it that he doesn't trust you, his wife of twenty-four years with the combination to his safe." "You are correct that he doesn't trust anyone." "I don't know, I was too busy stuffing everything in my valise to look," he said while rummaging through his valise and looking up at her before answering her. "Normally, I'm in and out within a few minutes and I always take everything that's in the safe. I just hold my valise up to the edge of the safe and push it all inside. I don't even look at what I got until I return home." He gave her a sly smile. "Yes, that's very smart of you to work quickly and not dally. No wonder why you've never been caught." She looked at him again with those mesmerizing eyes. "Still, I wonder if you found any pictures of her," she said as if she wanted to say more, but just allowed the words, pictures of her, to drift off without further comment. "I take everything because I never know what will come in handy later, especially should I be captured and have to negotiate my release from the police with some personal property. I never know what my victims may find invaluable. It could be trinket from a dead relative or it could be something that links them to a crime. You'd be surprised what they think is safe in their safes and what they desperately want back, once they are robbed and are willing to drop all charges to get it." He looked inside his valise. "Yes, there are photos in here," he said pulling them out and quickly viewing them. "May I see," she said holding out her hand and suddenly stiffening her posture. He looked at the photos of a woman semi dressed and naked. It was the same woman in all the photos. She was so very young and she was so very beautiful. Just as he could understand her oh so full of himself husband not valuing the real gem he already possessed with the love of his wife, he could understand her middle-aged husband's head being turned by such a young and beautiful vixen. Certainly, had he not been rich, this gold digger wouldn't have given him a second glance. "Maybe, you shouldn't bother with the photos, Princess. I don't want to upset you. Besides, you have more than enough reason to leave him than to—" "May I have my husband's photos...please?" She had a confident way about her.. Not to be denied seeing the photos, she said please in such a way that made him give them to her. She looked through the photos, at first flashing through them very quickly. Her eyes were tearing up. The second time she looked at the photos, she took her time looking at them. Now, she looked more hurt than angry. Once the color drained from her face, she appeared sad. Only, was her sadness because she couldn't compete with someone so young and so beautiful? Or was in not sadness but disappointment in the man she thought she loved and she thought loved her? Twenty-four years of memories is a long amount of time to throw away for a fling with a secretary who only wants him for your money. For such a smart man, he was stupid in allowing his cock to do his thinking for him. How could such a powerful, influential, and special man fall for such a fluff of a woman and give up her for that? Certainly, she could never care for him in the way she had nurtured his financial success over two and a half decades. What could she possibly do for him, other than give him a blowjob? The third time she stared at them, it was obvious that she was angry. "He's so typical. He's such a fool." "Princess, we can be at the airport and gone before your husband even comes home." "Look," she said holding up the photo to him. "She has my ring," she said pointing to the exact ring prominently displayed on the woman's finger. "She's wearing my ring." He leaned in for a better look at the photo. "From the photo, that looks like the real gemstone, but I'd have to see the ring before I could make—" "Does he buy all his tootsies copies of the same ring or did he give her my ring and leave me with the fake?" Now, she was really mad. "Let's not ruin what we suddenly have. We're lucky to have found—" "I need to play this out. I need to get what is mine. My husband has a lot of my money and after serving him faithfully for twenty-four years I can't just up and leave him and allow some young bimbo to walk in and take all that I've worked so hard to earn. I want my half. I'm not leaving until he realizes what he lost, especially where it will hurt him the most. In his pocket." "I can't argue with you. I understand.. I'd be angry too, if I were you." She gave him a look of surprised shock before she started giggling. "Here I am about to give up this life to run away with you to our tropical paradise and our nirvana that has snakes and bugs and monkeys and God only knows what else and..." she started laughing again. Now, it was a wild laugh, a belly laugh, a stress relieving laugh, and a laugh that she couldn't stop until she started crying. "It's okay, Princess. It's okay. Really it is," he said gently massaging her shoulder. "Everything will be wonderful. I can wait until you settle your personal affairs with your husband. I can wait until your lawyer confronts his lawyer with the photos. He'll settle this out of court, no doubt, and will give you whatever you want." "I don't want anything from him, other than my share of the money that he earned during the course of our marriage." "And I agree. Someone like him doesn't want a scandal and doesn't want his reputation sullied with his stuffy and unforgiving Beacon Hill and Back Bay clients. I've seen this before with some of the things that I've found in safes and confronted the owners with through intermediaries to extort them for more money on the threat of anonymously mailing what I found to their spouses or to the police," he said with a laugh. "They are always happy to pay." "No, that's not it," she said wiping her eyes while laughing. "It just occurred to me that I'm ready to run away with you to a tropical paradise in the South Pacific and I don't even know your name." They both started laughing at the ridiculousness of that. They laughed until they both had tears in their eyes. After the stress of seeing the proof that her husband was still having an affair with the secretary that he told her he had fired and after seeing his secretary wearing her beautiful one-of-a-kind ring, laughter was what she needed. At least he didn't give her pearls, she thought. The thought of which made her laugh even harder. "Martin." "Paron?" She stopped laughing long enough to wipe her tears away. "My name is Martin." "Martin?" She started laughing again. Her laughter was contagious and he started laughing again, too. Barely could she ask her next question without bursting out laughing. "Is that your first name or your last name?" "Both," he said with a laugh that made them laugh even more. "My name is Martin Martin." "Martin Martin? I can't run away with someone who has two first names," she said bursting out with uncontrollable laughter. "Or worse, two last names?" Now, she was belly laughing and rolling on the bed laughing and he was laughing with her. "My Dad had a weird sense of humor," said Martin laughing with her. "He thought it funny to name his only son, Martin Martin Martin. I go by Marty," he said before making her laugh even more. "Marty Martin Martin is my name." "Stop, I can't take it anymore. Martin Martin Martin," she said laughing. "Marty Martin Martin, this is too funny." "I took quite a bit of ribbing in school. You should see my monogram," he said making her laugh even more with him joining her. "That is so funny," she said while wiping tears from her eyes. "Marty Martin Martin. Seriously, I can't run away with someone who has such a redundant name. I've always like the name Chuck. I know, I shall call you Chuck," she said with a laugh. "Chuck Chuckie Charles, shall be your new name," she laughed even more. "Well, fortunately, I like the name that I've given you, Princess, and I'm pleased that you like it, too. So, in our new life we shall go by Princess and Chuck." Ultimately Kathy got her real ring back and more.
But that is a seperate story.
Thank you for reading my story although it is a pretty long. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.
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Friday, May 31, 2013
TIE ME UP & MAKE ME BLOW YOU
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